


We'd Be Together

by Adiaphory



Series: We'd Be Together [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2spoopy4me, AU, Bonding, Character Death, F/M, Getting Together, Haunted House, High School, Human Names, Italy is older than Germany, Lovino didn't sign up for this feels trip, Lovino is older than Antonio, M/M, No Touching, Romano is a little shit, Spain is naive, Supernatural - Freeform, Tragedy, Yaoi, break ups, ghost - Freeform, kind of, little orphan Italy, spamano - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-05 19:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 36,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5387321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adiaphory/pseuds/Adiaphory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something felt off about Antonio's new home. The stairs creaked, the windows groaned, and in the mirror he saw a face he didn't know. The face was young but the gestures old; Toni began a romance untold. He felt an issue new to most… if only he could touch Lovino the ghost.</p><p>[Complete story also on Fanfiction.net]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. For All the Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> The title is based on a My Chemical Romance lyric from the song "The Ghost of You."
> 
> I never  
> Said I'd lie and wait forever  
> If I died we'd be together...

The wooden paneling on the front of the house was recently painted, though further inspection revealed chipped wood beneath the leaded colors. It wasn’t fair to just leave a beautiful Gothic house to decay and barely accommodate its aging when it’s time to be sold. This was something straight from a horror film—the classic Gothic Revival style home in the middle of a notably aging neighborhood. Of course it was the creepiest house on the street, save for the red brick debris on the corner of the road. It had been a house, burnt down long ago, taking the elderly sleeping couple with it.

A shiver shot through Antonio, uncomfortable in the sticky heat of late August. The substantial backpack dug into his shoulders, burning into his skin, sticking to the sweat. A shout from his father shook him back to reality and he ran up to the front door, tripping over his feet up the porch steps.

The moving truck was backed into the driveway. Henrique, his older brother, was hopping around in the back and tossing boxes carelessly to the grass. Inside the house Antonio took his first steps, smacked by another cold front.

“Mama,” he called around, unsure where his mother was in the giant expanse of empty rooms. “Mama? Did you turn the AC on already?”

“No, Antonio,” she called back. She was in the kitchen, stacking boxes on the heavy wooden table. His father emerged from another doorway and shoved him away, bitterly reminding him to unpack already.

The house was extravagant, even with the chipped doorframes and dented floors. It was endearing, like a piece of history they now lived in. Everything was real, authentic wood or metal. Even the bathrooms were a sight with the bathtub elevated above the ground by golden feet. The scratch on the center of the mirror was annoying but he didn’t care—his parents planned to replace most of it, anyway.

After a few hours moving box among box into the lower level of the home, the four family members split up to designate upstairs bedrooms. Henrique shoved Antonio back into the hall when he wandered into the bedroom with a view of the front yard.

“Mine, dibs!” he chuckled.

“Fine, the windows are spooky, anyway!”

Henrique rolled his eyes and ignored his brother, exploring the new bedroom instead. The room didn’t matter much to the youngest boy but he _hated_ being treated like he was still ten and not seventeen.

There was one door that remained shut the entire time they had been there. There were four bedrooms on the second floor, meaning one would be a guest room or a study. Antonio approached the door, feeling an intimidation ridiculously immense for staring at a piece of wood. He grabbed the handle, struggling to even get it to _turn_ , let alone open.

No! No door will defeat the star soccer player at Lincoln High, Antonio Fernandez Carriedo!

He took a few steps back, a determination set in his emerald eyes. In his head he counted to himself, psyching himself up for the hit. Three, two, one! Antonio ran forward, left shoulder jutted forward and ready to bruise into the door!

…Which it would have, had the door not flown open at the last second and sent him stumbling at the extra space and tripping face-first to the floor.

“OH GOD, ANTONIO,” Henrique’s voice called through the halls. “OH GOD, I WISH I HAD A CAMERA.”

“Shut up, Henry!”

Antonio shrugged off his blush and stood up, checking out the walls and giant windows. He turned back around, barely catching that _cursed_ door closing behind him. The small click of metal alerted him to the lock turning itself in the handle.

“…H-Henrique? Henrique, did you do that?”

There was no reply but the shuffling of boxes in the neighboring rooms.

* * *

They ate takeout from a Chinese restaurant that night, all seated on the floor in the large, but empty, sitting room in the back of the house. Antonio felt drawn to the large glass panes on the far wall and the small backyard they framed. There was a single tree, which looked about dead, with a broken swing still clinging to a thick branch by a fraying rope.

This house couldn’t possibly get any more horrifying than it was right now. Every sign was there: the creepy kid play area, the mirror that he swore got more scratches every time he looked, the doors that move by themselves… This was most definitely not Antonio’s forte.

Why couldn’t they had bought that nice lilac-colored house by the ice cream shop? Or that cute yellow house that was way closer to his high school and to Gilbert’s house? No, they just had to buy a decrepit place in the oldest neighborhood since the dawn of the earth.

Antonio felt a strain in his stomach and excused himself up to his new room to unpack more of his things before he went to bed. He needed something familiar or he was going to be freaked out all night. The handle stuck again but let him in faster than before. His arms were tired from moving all day and he relented on just unpacking his bedding.

His old bed, along with all of the family’s previous furniture, was still being moved. The house was pre-stocked with furnishings and all and it would be agreed at a later time which set they kept. Antonio personally liked the setup of his new room. The bedframe was intricate in design and the dressers matched. His old ones at his old home were mismatched things he found on sale with his parents when he was just a mere freshmen.

As he was patting down the comforter over his new bed he heard a creak. He turned, finding one drawer on the dresser had slid open. Then another… and another.

“It’s just the new house settling,” he whispered frantically. “It’s crooked,” he reasoned.

There were no more comforting words when the middle drawer violently jerked from the base and flew at him, barely missing his leg as it crashed into the wood of the bed.

“SHIT, SHIT, SHIT,” Antonio cried. More drawers jiggled and appeared stuck, which he thanked every God there was for. Even on the soccer field he had never ran as fast as he did from his bedroom.

Antonio came stumbling down the steps, panicking, crying for his mom. His family didn’t believe him when he told them of the attack. Why would they? It’s asinine!

“They wanted me dead, mama!” he cried frantically. “The dresser is out for my blood!”

Three rounds of eye-rolls made his blood boil… sort of. He wasn’t a very angry person. They followed Antonio back up to his room and sighed tiredly when they inspected the area. Everything had been put back in place, flawless as it was before.

“No, it happened!” Was all he could think to say. “It… it attacked me.”

If Antonio had been a smarter man he probably would have noticed the new chip in the bedframe. Unfortunately he was a very simple kind of person. Sometimes simple people were just _no fun._

_…I think I can make this work._

* * *

 Sleeping in his room that night was a nightmare. Antonio was plagued by short dreams of invisible men throwing furniture at him. When he was awake he swore he saw a man in the corner of his room, staring out the window. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, relieved to see no one there at all. He could have done with less of the random floor board groans and the doorknob shaking.

He thought to himself that if this was a ghost he sure was being dramatic. There was no harm in talking to himself in bed to calm his nerves, right? “You’re trying _muy, muy_ hard, _Señor Ghost_.”

More creaks followed.

“You’re going to use up all your good material tonight,” Antonio chuckled. “How are you supposed to scare me when I’m already used to you?”

The creaks slowed.

“I’m going to call you Peeves. I always hated how they left him out of the movies. Harry Potter, I mean. He was my favorite ghost, though Nearly-Headless Nick was a close second. Are you nearly headless?”

All was silent.

“Goodnight, Peeves."

_Goodnight, you moron._

* * *

A shriek awoke Antonio from his slumber. He grabbed his phone and saw the time, 6:04. This was exactly something Henrique would do. He had a habit of waking Antonio for school the weirdest of ways.

Antonio emerged from his room like a zombie and followed the heavy breathing to the bathroom, where his elder brother was flashing his phone camera rapidly at the old mirror.

“Henrique, this is weird, even for you,” Antonio grumbled.

“Weird? WEIRD?”

“Yes?”

The look Henrique shot him was a cross between rage and fear. “You were right, baby brother. _You were right_.”

“About what?”

“The house being haunted!” The elder teen pointed accusingly at the mirror and handed his phone to Antonio. “Look at those. I think I caught it! And look at the mirror! It’s scratched!”

“It’s always been like that.”

“NO IT WASN’T.”

The pictures on the phone were all blurry, some more than others. It was obviously an attempt to catch something before it _vanished_ , though nothing was legible in the images. Antonio brushed it off as an attempt to scare him senseless before he left for school. It was such a Henrique thing to do, using his newest hang-up against him.

Antonio spent the next hour attempting to find his box of clothes and the box of food in the kitchen, which was under the box of fine china. Next to the front door was his school backpack, hung neatly on a hook. Seven o’clock hit and he sprinted outside, trying desperately to catch the bus that was now pulling away from the stop.

* * *

Henrique had been the last to leave that day, his college classes not beginning until noon. Floating through the halls was Lovino, bored as ever. Trapped in the same building for years really wears down on you, alive or not.

The boxes stacked everywhere were new. He hadn’t seen anything like that since the day _he_ moved in, and that was a long, long time ago. He picked up a few of the packages and tore them open, rifling through containers of clothes and photo albums and useless shit like paperweights. Was that a pen? _A fountain pen? How pretentious. I bet these idiots think they’re classy or something for moving here… I know I did…_

_No, I’m done with that ‘feeling’ shit. I haven’t needed to feel in years and I’m sure as shit not going to start now._

He took the pen, watching it fade beneath his grasp, never fully hidden. There was a misty glow to being a ghost, something you could fade or brighten. He spent most of his time wandering the house, rarely making himself seen. There was no fun in being visible when no one was around to be terrified by it.

He floated up the stairs and into Antonio’s room. _His_ room. He ripped a piece of the cardboard from the “blankets” box and scribbled across it, dropping it through his hand to the bed.

_This should do it. That moron can’t be so stupid he ignores this!_

* * *

Antonio was hardly fazed when he first found the note. This was due mostly to the two idiots checking out every crevice of every surface—he saw it and immediately forgot. Inspecting the windows was Francis, his sleek blonde hair pulled back in a bow; the friend he shared half his classes with. By the closet was Gilbert, his albino friend who was in the other half.

“Haunted? You’re too cute sometimes,” Francis said, wiping his finger across a smudge on the glass.

“I’m not cute, I’m manly and tall!”

Gilbert snickered, “We didn’t call you short, Toni.”

Antonio crossed his arms. “Force of habit.”

Francis crossed the room, lightly patting his Spanish friend on the arms. His eye was caught on the brown sheet in the middle of the light-blue bed. It was so out of place and unusual. Francis brushed past Antonio, crawling across the bed to snatch the item from the center. He held it up, asking “Did you write this, Toni?”

 _Of course he didn’t! I did!_ Lovino scowled from his seat on the chair that was alone in the corner by the door. He was completely transparent, waiting for the right time to _fuck shit up._

Everything felt cold and heavy as Antonio took the cardboard and saw the ink. “Get out of my room,” he read. His skin paled considerably.

Gilbert scoffed and snatched the note to look at for himself. “Really? ‘Get out?’ Your brother ran out of pranks long ago, my friend.”

“Henrique is at college.”

“He wrote it before he left.”

“No. He didn’t.” Antonio took the note back and rubbed his thumb across he letters. The ink smeared slightly. “T-this is still wet. This was _just_ written before we got back.”  
It was time to add insult to injury. Lovino smirked to himself and crept behind Francis, reaching out his hand slowly, precisely. The hairs on the Frenchman’s neck stood erect and Lovino ripped the ribbon from his ponytail, letting it fall down his back.

They were screaming and running from the room in an instant, leaving behind Lovino to laugh and laugh and… feel lonely?

_Goddamn it._


	2. Never Gonna

It had been a month since the move and this paranormal activity was slow but constant. Notes were often popping up in Antonio’s room, sometimes from stolen items like pens and paper. As time progressed Lovino grew in force, resorting back to flinging things around or leaving doors and windows open. He only did it when Antonio was alone or with the other two idiots. _No liable witnesses._

It was, without a doubt, an insane way to reclaim a room. Lovino kept his messages vague, save for the occasional “ **get out** ” drawn onto foggy windows. There was no way in hell he’d give in and truly talk to the idiot Carriedos. His job was to remain silent and horrifying!

…which was difficult when he was solely haunting Antonio. It was always good for a cheap laugh to make something, _anything_ , fall off a table or shelf to scare Henrique. Good old Henrique.

Lovino wanted his house back. He wanted these people gone and heading back to wherever the fuck they came from. _Probably some prissy gated community_ , he told himself bitterly.

It wasn’t until he caught word of the upcoming sleepover that he created a plan more excellent. Francis and Gilbert had been cautious about returning to Antonio’s room, where the paranormal activity was strongest. Lovino made a point of doing this: making them think they had him figured out.

_Fuckers have no idea what I’m capable of._

He waited, all day in fact, in his favorite chair in the corner of the room. It was past four when Antonio’s voice flooded the echoing halls of the wooden house. He was followed by the snake-like laugh of the ‘Prussian’ idiot and the French pervert.

They stopped before entering Antonio’s room, weary of the known ghost area. Gilbert shuffled his feet, awkwardly asking, “Is there, uh, a chance we can sleep in the guest room instead?”

“Yeah,” Francis stuttered. “The bed is so much nicer!”

This was getting ridiculous. They weren’t the scaredy-cats, he was! It seems living in a genuine haunted house had some decent side effects after all. “Look, I won’t make you two sleep in my room…”

They sighed in relief.

“But Señor Ghost is only going to mess with you more if you show fear.”

They relented and begrudgingly dragged their feet into **the room from hell**. Lovino was more than a bit pissed when Gilbert had thrown his backpack through his lap into the chair. In reply, he threw it right back.

Gilbert screamed.

Antonio laughed. “Gil, that’s his chair. He doesn’t like other people using it.”

_Damn straight I don’t._

“Also, don’t touch the left night table or the old lamp with the broken light bulb. He got mad last time I tried to dust them.”

Francis sat gingerly on the bed, waiting for some kind of attack from the ghost. When none came, he tiredly asked, “How can you live like this? You act like this poltergeist is Casper. And what happened to that nickname? Peeves?”

“He… did not like that one.” The Spaniard cringed at the memory of trying to introduce Henrique more formally to Lovino. The moment Henrique chuckled was the moment Lovino started throwing windows open and letting the wind in.

Lately Lovino had been getting better about his haunting, though Antonio didn’t know why. He was hopeful that Señor Ghost was simply adjusting well and welcomed him to his home! Lovino, on the other hand, was biding his time. What good are a few hilarious spooks when the family is so terrified they move out? If the Carriedos moved then he’d be alone again… only able to play around with whatever stray creature nested on the porch. Animals weren’t the most receptive to ghosts.

The friends sat together on the floor, beginning to talk about school and the newest scandals to occur. Lovino had to admit he missed it—talking to friends, being innocent and young and alive, no real worries… And so he sat in his chair, watching the living.

“I heard Alfred got the British chick knocked up,” Gilbert whispered. “I heard them fighting before school yesterday. She said _something_ was his fault and he said she needed to _take care of it._ Can you believe it?”

“What a douche,” Francis scoffed. “Did you hear about the newest couple? Apparently that creep Ivan asked out Yao, and he said yes!”

Antonio pulled a bag of chips from his backpack, ripping it open. “Wait, didn’t Ivan out Yao in middle school? He bullied him for years!”

“Crazy, I know! Turns out Ivan was projecting like mad.”

Lovino tilted his head like a confused kitten. Who were these people and why do they care so much about their lives? He had been dead so long he stopped caring about other people. They long since stopped caring about him. He was dead, yeah, but it’s not like he never existed! His bastard friends don’t even visit his grave anymore, those fucks.

“Señor Ghost? You’re being awfully quiet,” Antonio looked at the chair, gaze piercing Lovino’s invisible chest. “Are you bored of throwing my stuff around?”

_I never get tired of fucking with your shit._

“Are you bored?”

_Fuck yes I am, you stupid piece of flesh._

“Are you still there?”

Gilbert smacked at his foot which had been falling asleep. “Are you stupid? He finally left us alone and you want him back?”

There was a sadness within Antonio’s eyes. “Ghosts get lonely too, Gil. What if we were the first friends he made since the house was built?”

_I am not that fucking desperate!_ To prove something unknown to himself the ghost sprung from his chair and vanished into the large mirror that was attached to the dresser. He spread his mist through the glass, making the appearance of coldness and fog. The three friends were still as statues, watching with anticipation.

Inside the mirror he wrote backwards, knowing they would see it the ‘right’ way. The looks of surprise on their stupid living faces were delicious.

_**REST IN PIECE ANTONIO** _

* * *

  
The guest room was a great idea in hindsight. Lovino was overjoyed to get his room back to himself, even if it was just for the night. That stupid sexy bastard had ruined the setup! It was bad enough his grandfather had to pack up most of his belongings when he died but then this idiot has to come and move the rest of what he had left!

It had been so long since he saw his grandfather. He remembered it vividly—in life and death. He remained unnoticed in the house, no matter how hard he tried to be seen, as Grandpa Roma lifelessly went from room to room, packing things, crying in breaks.

He wished he could have seen his brother that day. Little Feliciano was only three when he had died and Grandpa Roma chose not to take him to the house for the packing… though they did return there for the wake.

Lovino had never felt such guilt before that day, watching as family and friends crowded into his living room, now empty save for the casket and couches. There was no way this was legal but Grandpa Roma had been a powerful man, running the town since his youth.

It was a year later when Lovino learned how to move things and appear. He wished nothing more than to be able to go back to that day and try to possess his body, maybe then he could have come back. Then he could have jumped from the casket and hugged Toris tightly, whispering not to cry, _I’m back_. He would have picked up his brother and never put him back down. At the very least he would have possessed his brother’s bunny doll to follow him and protect him…

_No. NO, NO, NO._ Lovino screamed to himself. _I’m not doing this! I can’t spend my ghostly eternity wallowing in what never could be! I’m dead, they’re dead, and I’m stuck on earth while they’re probably in Heaven with mom and dad!_

It had been years since he cried openly. What he didn’t realize was that he wasn’t the only person who could hear it.

* * *

  
“Okay, I’m fucking out!”

“Gil, no!”

Gilbert was struggling to stand up and flee the building, Antonio and Francis held tightly to his legs to prevent it. “That fucking ghost is moaning! This is creepy shit, Toni!”  
Antonio pulled at his feet, forcing him down on his ass. “Maybe he’s upset! He’s never made those kinds of sounds before.”

“GHOSTS DON’T EVEN EXIST,” the albino was screaming to himself.

This entire night was a mess. They were run from their room and now the fucking poltergeist is being a creep. Francis hated seeing his friends like this—Gilbert desperate to leave and Antonio frantically trying to fix it.

“I have an idea.”

They stopped and watched as the blonde snatched up some torn cardboard (the back of which was another _get out_ message). He located a marker and scribbled an alphabet down and giant a YES and NO. The other two got the message and calmed down. They sprinted through the hall, down the stairs, and to the kitchen where Gilbert picked out one of Mr. Carriedo’s shot glasses—a clear one with a half-gone logo.

Their redneck Ouija board was ready for speaking between worlds.

Francis and Gilbert waited on the floor with the board, giving Antonio thumbs ups before the tanned teen ventured into the hall and to the moans.

He knocked on the door lightly, noticing the sudden halt in noise. “Señor Ghost? Can I come in?”

The door knocked back.

“I don’t know Morse code. We just wanted to invite you to hang out with us. You seem lonely and we can try to talk like roommates do!”

_We’re not fucking roommates._

“We’re in the guest room. Just do something spooky and we’ll know you’re game.”

Antonio waited around but no response came. He went back to his friends, disappointed that Lovino was still so reclusive. Color him shocked when Lovino had beat him to the room, the window now wide open and letting the hot night air in.

Antonio smiled, taking his seat between his friends. “Thank you, Señor Ghost! Oh, Gil, move. He needs a place to sit, too.”  
“Are you kidding?”

The straight face of Antonio told him he was, in fact, dead serious. The albino grumbled and scooted closer to Francis, leaving a blank spot between him and the Spaniard. Said space was filled with cool air, as if a block of ice was hiding there.

Adrenalin poured into the three living teenagers’ veins until finally, with a shaky hand, Francis grabbed the shot glass. Antonio and Gilbert did the same, each using two fingers to hold the sides.

Antonio cleared his throat, finally asking, “Okay, Señor Ghost. First question: what is your name?”

They didn’t expect the force of the cup moving so rapidly across the board to find the letters. Francis read out, “L-O-V-I-N-O. Lovino?”

The glass struck YES.

“What origin is that?” Antonio pressed.

“I-T-A-L-I-A-N. Italian. Lovino is an Italian ghost!”

Gilbert startled as the cup moved again. “Wait, Franny, what’s he spelling now?”

With full concentration Francis followed the movements, reading silently to himself. The phrase was long and he deciphered it in his head before a flustered cry of, “Hey!”

“What did he say?” Antonio questioned, excitement oozing from his pours.

“He called us a bunch of bastards. Then he said we were stupid.”

_Hehehe, now time to spell ‘go fuck yourself.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Lovino used the wrong "piece/peace." What an idiot.


	3. All the Smiles

It was December when Lovino decided he was tired of just creeping around the house and scaring Henrique at every turn. That damn Antonio was right when he said he’d get used to the ghost’s antics. These days a floating notebook or creaking floorboard did nothing to spook him and it was getting on Lovino’s nerves. Even those moron friends of his will shout a greeting when they visited!

A greeting!

The snow was already making sheets over the fields and buildings surrounding his house. The windows were chilled and provided the perfect opportunity for messages and handprints.

“Lovi, I’m home!” Antonio called out while entering the house. He stopped to hang his coat by the door and kick the snow off his shoes. The shoes were left by the welcome mat, toed off before he hopped up the steps and to his— _Lovino’s_ —room.

The Spaniard happily skipped in and plopped himself down on his bed. He pulled out a few notebooks and pens from his school bag and scribbled his name down on a few sheets. He looked up, spotting a word that warmed his heart.

On the window his room was a message: “ **Lovino**.”

“Don’t you like my nickname for you, Lovi?”

The ghost underlined the ‘no’ in his name.

“You’re no fun.”

Antonio considered himself lucky to have such a social ghost haunting his home. Admittedly he was terrified when he first encountered floating objects and cold spots but now it was endearing; it meant his special friend was near.

Ever since he learned Lovino’s name he felt closer to the entity. It took all his will not to Google his name or research previous owners of the Gothic house. It felt cheap to do that to him, to just start doing background checks on the person he was just starting to know. Antonio was dying to learn more about him but Lovino was secretive. For all he knew the ghost could be an old man with a crazy mustache or a little kid who died tragically young.

Now that Antonio thought about it, Lovino could be a little kid, always throwing things like in a temper tantrum. Maybe he forgot his last name? Maybe he wanted to play alone again.

“Hey, Lovino?” he called, looking blindly around the room. “How old are you? Wait—uh, how old _were_ you?”

It was still within the room. Antonio feared he asked the wrong question. It startled him briefly when he felt ice on his hand and the pen was pulled from it. The pen spun around before stopping on his math homework, writing in the center of the page, **_22_**.

“You were only twenty-two? That’s… so young. I’m sorry, Lovi.”

The pen smacked him in the face.

“Sorry, sorry! Lovino.”

Lovino had made himself scarce after that, allowing his— _as much as he hated to say it_ —friend to finish his homework. He sat in his chair, watching in awe as the living being moved and crumpled the blankets or scratched his arm. The warmth he must be radiating was a thrilling concept. Warmth. Feeling. All Lovino knew was the cold, not that he could even fee it. He constantly felt light, a little high, like he held his breath too long and couldn’t get another lungful.

And there Antonio was, breathing.

He was aware how special this teenager had to be. This seventeen-year-old soccer player with a heart of gold and a head of what looked to be baby-soft hair. Why was he wasting his time with the dead? He would never know Lovino but here he was, trying daily to learn something. Lovino found it was becoming harder and harder to keep it all inside anymore.

He watched, jealously overridden by astonishment, as Antonio lived.

* * *

  
The mirror in the bathroom was dirty and smudged with fingerprints at the edges. It concealed a medicine cabinet and _apparently_ Henrique didn’t understand the concept of not using his entire palm just to open the side.

The water in the tub was running and Antonio was just pulling his shirt off as the steam began to rise. His hand grazed his curly tresses, causing him to groan at the greasiness from skipping his shower the night before.

He stopped the faucet when the tub was half full and he eyed the bubble bath bottle he knew he would be teased for using if his brother found out. He couldn’t help that bubbles were super fun!

Antonio’s heart nearly stopped when he glanced back to the mirror, now seeing a shadowy figure obscured within. “L-Lovino? Is that you?”

There was no answer. He crept closer and stood across the object, staring and bracing himself. The figure reappeared, replacing his brownish blur of a reflection with something almost lilac in color. The glass was cool beneath his fingers as he gently and slowly wiped away the fog, leaving the face before him framed in a mystifying haze.

The person he saw was no one he had ever seen before. The face was pale and cool-toned, like a person sprayed with cotton-candy coloring. The being flickering slightly, becoming more see-through. Antonio held his breath as he examined this person.

“Lovino?”

The face nodded. Unlike his skin, those eyes were green. The brightest, most stunning green Antonio had ever seen in his life. That gentle face, so handsome and soft, was framed by what used to be shiny brown bangs.

“You’re… you…”

Lovino lifted his eyebrows, another shock to see for the Spanish teen. The ghost looked more amused now and mouthed, “ _A ghost?_ ”

“A ghost? No, well, I mean, yeah. But that’s not it.”

A playful smirk pulled at the blue lips that soon mouthed, “ _Hot?_ ”

“That would be it.”

There was a laugh erupting from the Italian, totally silent and absolutely amazing to watch. He stopped and went back to watching Antonio through the mirror.

“Can you talk?”

Lovino nodded.

“Will you?”

Antonio suppressed a giggle when this poltergeist who had been harassing him for months looked flustered.

"Well, Lovi, I’m going to get in before the water gets cold. Feel free to join me.” He laughed again before turning around, shamelessly sliding out of his pants and boxers before easing himself into the tub. He poured some pink liquid into the water and flicked his hands around to make the bubbles.  
  
He nearly pissed himself when a cluster of the bubbles at the other end of the tub rose up from the water, rounded like it were on top a balloon. Before him the ghost of that _sexy_ Italian appeared, making himself opaque for the first time in the presence of the teenager.

Lovino was still toned blue but there was a clear undertone of tanned skin and dark hair. The bubbles dropped through his head and back to the water, flying around before they landed and popped. “I can talk, you stupid bastard.”

Antonio’s face was fifty shades of red. This ghost just joined him in the bath. More importantly, this attractive Italian twenty-two-year-old man with a deep voice and Italian accent just joined him when he was naked and wet.

“This is a little pervy, Lovi.”

“Oh, what am I gonna do? I’m a fucking _ghost_. I’d go right through you.”

“Oh God, Lovi, that’s horrible!”

It was a little funny to finally see him in person, in a way. There Lovino was, trying to look cool and nonchalant, while fully-dressed and in a bubble bath.

“I’m glad you finally started talking to me.”

Lovino huffed. “Well I got bored so don’t flatter yourself.”

“You’re the one in the bath with a naked teenage boy.”

Lovino made a show of shooting his eyes downward, piercing through the bubbles. “You’re not flattering yourself here, _circumcision scar_.”

Antonio squealed and pulled his legs up to his chest. One day Lovino would tell him he can’t see through things, he can only move through them. One day. Not today.

* * *

  
Lovino sat on the dresser, one leg crossed over the other, as Antonio rubbed his hair dry from the bed. They had a short talk in the bathroom, awkwardly trying to get past the last few months accumulating to _this_ , naked in the tub.

“Why were you invisible until now?”

“Because the scariest things are the unseen. Everyone fears the unknown.”

Antonio paused. “That was very deep.”

“Just like your mom.”

“Lovi!” Antonio threw the towel through the ghost. Lovino just laughed at him and flipped him off.

“Stop calling me _Lovi_ , damn it. It’s a stupid nickname. How would you like it if I called you _Toni_?”

“I’d like it a lot, actually.”

“Goddamn it.”

There was a giddiness springing around Antonio’s chest. He told himself he was just excited to finally see and hear Lovino but he knew that wasn’t at all true. He felt like an idiot but it was undeniable: he was forming a crush on this man. This was the same warmth he felt when he fell for Roderich in middle school and the same excitement as when he first fooled around with Francis. All the notes and surprise motions stirred something inside him.

Somehow he was falling for a man he never even met, and now he was forced to face it. The feeling didn’t falter. The feeling only stirred.

Lovino tilted his head. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Sorry!” Antonio nervously laughed. “I just never saw you before. I’m making up for lost time.”

“Fucking creep.”

“Bathtub.”

 _Shit_.

The time on the alarm clock on Antonio’s allowed night table read 12:09. He hummed before deciding bed was probably more important than staying up all night to get to know the man who would be here every day forever. “I need to get to bed. I have school tomorrow.”

“Whatever.”

“Do you want to join me?”

Lovino startled. “Join you?”

That innocent smile on the Spaniard’s tanned face was enticing enough as it was. “Yeah! You probably haven’t been able to sleep here since I took the bed. We’re not hiding, you can come lay with me.”

Lovino wanted to say no and to fuck off… but it was his bed, damn it! And he did miss sleeping in it, even if he couldn’t feel it. It reminded him of the past and he didn’t want to forget how soft beds used to be.

He wordlessly lifted himself from the dresser and to the bed, moving like he was sinking through water. Antonio smiled when his ghostly friend was next to him, over the covers, slowly slipping through the fabric and forcing it above him.

This ghost just tucked himself in.

Antonio snuggled under the covers as well and turned to face the Italian. “Buenas noches.”

“Buonanotte.”


	4. You Are

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lovino catches up with the times and Gilbert fucks with Alfred and Elizabeth (England).

“What’s that?”

“A cell phone.”

“ _Cell_ phone?”

Antonio lifted the flat, metal device higher. He had been texting Gilbert when Lovino flew through the wall, bored. The ghost had never seen such a technologically advanced piece of equipment before and was awestruck. “Cellular. It’s like the old phones everyone used to have. You can talk on them but now they do just about everything.”

The ghost lifted his translucent eyebrows and sat on the edge of Antonio’s bed, his legs somewhat fading into the edge of the mattress like a video game glitch. “What’s ‘everything’ in the twenty-first century?”

 _Twenty-first century_. “It’ll be a lot easier to explain if I knew what you were alive to experience. What year did you die, Lovi?”

The ghost looked away, bashful expression on his face. “Nineteen… nineties…”

Antonio’s expression fell to a gloomy frown. “You didn’t die that long ago.”

“Shut the fuck up and show me your future shit.”

The mood returned back to its previous fun atmosphere and the Spanish teen tapped the screen on his phone, lighting the black square into a bright abundance of color. “This is the lock screen. Then you get past that and you have pages of apps—uh, applications.”

“What kind of Marty McFly shit…”

Antonio pressed at a bright green square. “This is the Weather app. See? It says there’s a forty-percent chance of snow!”

The ghost looks unamused. “Why not look out a fucking window?”

Antonio clicked on another square. “And this app lets you play Solitaire!”

“Buy a pack of cards.”

“And this red one is the texting app.”

Lovino opened his mouth, closing it a second later. “What in the hell is texting?”

“It’s like sending letters but they automatically go to the recipient. Watch.” Antonio opened up Gilbert’s and his conversation, displaying all the old messages. “See? Gilbert is on the left and I’m on the right.”

Lovino read over the page. “R-O-F-L?”

“That’s text-talk for _rolling on the floor, laughing_.”

“Who rolls on the floor when they laugh?”

“Anime characters, I think.”

Lovino was amazed at this small miracle machine. He took it from the Spaniard’s hand and began sifting through it himself, discovering all the pages and apps and app folders. “What’s this red one with the triangle?”

“YouTube.”

“My tube?”

Antonio giggled. “You’re so Amish, Lovi! It’s an internet website that’s very popular. It plays videos.”

Lovino froze. “What about _dial-up_? Are you telling me internet is so good these days even idiots like you can use it on your fucking phone?”

“Yep.”

“Show me!” There was a childlike excitement in his voice. He had missed out on living for years and by god he was going to get his time back!

“Click the magnifying glass.”

Lovino tapped it and tilted his head at the new words taking its place. “ _Search YouTube?_ ”

“Good. Now type something.”

“Like what?”

“Anything.”

The ghost sat there, giving thought to his first ever search. His eyes wandered to the list of videos Antonio had previously searched, half being soccer searches and Nicki Minaj.

He clicked the name, curious who that was. A soccer player?

Playlists and other small squares popped up with lyrics or images of a woman. Antonio was laughing at the search. “You may not like Nicki Minaj.”

“Who is… that?”

“She’s a musical artist.”

“Let’s do it.” The ghost tapped the first video result… he wouldn’t live to regret that choice.

* * *

  
**_My anaconda don't/ My anaconda don't/ My anaconda don't want none unless you got buns, hun._**

* * *

  
“SIR MIX-A-LOT, NO,” Lovino dropped the phone through his hands and to the bed. Antonio was face-down in a pillow, having to tap out when he saw the looks on the ghost’s face. Lovino glared at the giggling mass, asking flatly, “So… you’re an ass guy, huh?”

“Lovi, your face—”

“I will haunt you until the day you die, you piece of shit.”

They sat there until Antonio was composed again, reclaiming his phone to continue texting. “I wish they had the guy dancing, though,” he said nonchalantly. “I want to see his buns.”

“Jesus Christ, Antonio.”

“Or his anaconda.”

The ghost had enough of this and faded away, opting to mindlessly drift the house for the millionth time. This damn living sack of organs and his damn technology.

* * *

  
Antonio’s math class was the most boring part of his day. Here he was, stuck doing equations that made no sense for imaginary numbers, when he could be home playing with supernatural forces! The bell rang and he jumped to leave, tripping slightly over his shoelaces.

At lunch he sat with his two best friends, as always, and relayed teaching his ghostly friend about smartphones. The two couldn’t believe how close Antonio was getting with this movie cliché of a person.

“What’cha talking about?” Alfred approached their table, full tray in hand, with Elizabeth. “Can we sit with you? Those commies kicked us out of our usual table.”

“They’re not communists,” the British girl hissed, in as irritable a mood as ever.

“Take a seat,” Francis said cordially, eyeing Elizabeth despite the presence of her boyfriend. “We were just talking about Antonio’s new _amour_.”

The guests sat down and Antonio sputtered. “He’s not my love! He’s just my cute little roommate!”

The American leaned across the table. “Oh? _Roommate_? Can we see a picture of your new _boyfriend_ then?”

“Alfred!” Elizabeth kicked him under the table.

Gilbert had a devious glint in his eye. “I have a picture of him, but it’s a little blurry.” This caused Antonio and Francis to turn to him, eyes widened. Was Gilbert lying or did he actually capture Lovino on camera?

The Prussian pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping around loudly until he found his photo gallery. He scrolled through, all the images flying by the page. Then he stopped, bringing the image to take up the full screen. He held it up, away from himself, for everyone else to see.

Antonio couldn’t believe it. A picture from the night they used the Ouija board. It was dark but still clear—in the center was Antonio, blinking, hand on the small shot glass. Next to Antonio, just barely out of camera, was Francis. The Frenchman’s leg and hands, gripping a pen and pad of paper, were all that could be seen. And on the other side of Antonio, unbelievably, was Lovino. He was pale blue and his image was foggy, but they could all see his own hand on the shot glass as well. He was looking at Antonio, though his facial expression was hidden by his floppy hair and the mist surrounding him.

“I had no idea you took that,” Antonio said, voice hushed. Meanwhile Alfred and Elizabeth were sheet-white and looking ready to panic.

“YOU CAUGHT A GHOST ON CAMERA?” Alfred cried, knocking over some of his food mountain.

“This is incredible! I can’t believe it! Proof!” Elizabeth chirped, excited at the revelation. “Do you think we can meet him? I’ve always wanted to meet a ghost.”

Antonio was flabbergasted. There was a seedling of jealously planted in his gut. This was his ghost! Lovino wasn’t something to show off and gawk at! He was a person and a cute one at that!

“I don’t know, I—”

Gilbert knocked the wind out of Antonio with a heavy arm dropped on his shoulders. “Of course you can see the ghost of Old Man Carriedo’s house! _But it’ll cost you_.”

Alfred and Elizabeth paused, exchanging an excited and curious look. “How much?” Alfred asked, tone stiff.

The smirk etching into Gilbert’s deathly pale face was that of a demon. “I crave a boon.”

“What boon?”

“Just do good old Gil a lil’ favor, of his choosing, at any time. That’s worth a ghost sighting, ja?”

With a sigh the young, blonde couple agreed. Antonio could only sit there, voice shot, absolutely mortified at the turn of events. He didn’t want to expose his new friend, but he also didn’t have it in him to scold his best friend… or his other best friend for letting this happen.

The school day dragged on after that, Antonio both craved and resented the inevitable bus ride home.

* * *

  
“You’re a bunch of fucking idiots, you know that?” Lovino was floating around the bedroom, color fluctuating and alternating between the misty blue and a steamy, fiery orange.

He wasn’t the least bit amused by his only living friends pulling this kind of publicity stunt.

_No, not friends! Reluctant ties to the twenty-first century, goddamn it!_

“Come on, now that obnoxious jock owes us! I can make him go to prom in a dress!”

Francis lightly slapped Gilbert on the head. “You dragged us into this, you’d better have a better plan than that!”

Gilbert stretched and leaned back on the bed, nudging Antonio’s leg out of the way. “I’m going to make him name the baby after me.”

Lovino’s color stilled. “I thought you jerks said they were aborting the little mistake?”

Francis clicked his tongue and ran his finger through his hair before responding, “Elizabeth didn’t go through with it. She’s eating half of Alfred’s food at lunch and she’s extremely cautious about anyone bumping her stomach in the halls.”

Lovino nodded, feigning interest, then continued on drifting about the room. _Why did I even let these jackasses see me? What a bunch of morons._ He quickly grew bored of the movements and floated back to his chair, his chair—not stupid Antonio’s or Gilbert’s or anyone else’s!

“How did you die?” Gilbert asked bluntly, catching everyone off guard.

“Your mom crushed me.”

“Oh ha-fucking-ha! I didn’t know dead people had a sense of humor!”

Antonio caught the subtle change in Lovino’s appearance—the clearness of his image momentarily fading and blurring like a bad photograph. Since the first appearance he studied the ghost and picked up on the changes. His colors changed when his emotions were high, most notably when he was mad he would become orange and parts of him would become hyper-realistic. Then there were moments like this, the ones where emotions weighed heavily on the ghost—the permanence of the pain much stronger than the short spurts of rage. In these moments his color might mute and his human coloring was nonexistent, replaced by cool tones of blue or purple. His appearance faded, further extremities turning to fog like his legs or arms.

Antonio was more accustomed to the quick successions of orange and horrifying clarity like the small scar on Lovino’s palm or the darker coloring on his chin and neck. Those spots were a mystery to him—how can someone so tan in life still, as a ghost, have even _darker_ spots?

Then there was the mist. When Lovino was asked about his past, particularly about his death, it was obvious the emotion weighed on his soul. He would avert his gaze, go quiet, stall a bit before he figured out an answer worded just right to avoid the truth. There were quick moments where he just threw back an insult instead, but in the moments of waiting he practically disappeared.

“When are they coming?”

Antonio jerked awake from his daydreaming and focused on the ghost, fading through the chair. Gilbert hummed before answering, “I told them after night-fall.”

“Night-fall?” Lovino scoffed. “How fucking gay can you word something?”

“Night-fall isn’t gay, it’s creepy!”

“I’m gay and creepy. It’s _gay as hell_ , you little albino fuck.”

Snickering led to an outburst. Antonio was wheezing into his hand, Francis holding his own giggles back as well. “Lovi, you’re too much!”

Lovino silenced him with a glare. “Whatever. I’m bored as shit anyway. What kind of spooky shit are we playing on the unmarried little sinners?”  
The trio on the bed grinned and began to explain their amazing plan to mess with Alfred and Elizabeth.

* * *

  
Alfred knocked on the door, feeling much more confident than he was that morning at school. There were no such things as ghosts! That guy in the picture was probably Antonio’s cousin they used some ghost app to make glow!

…but it would be badass if he actually was a ghost.

Beside him Elizabeth was shuffling her feet. She loved anything paranormal or magical, though the idea of actually encountering something like it got her so worked up. The faces she made were melting Alfred’s heart.

He was about to knock again when Antonio flung the door open, a big smile on his goofy face. “Hola! Welcome to the Carriedo House of Horrors! Come in, come in!”

The two followed him through the door and eyed the interior of the home, only finding normal family things: wet boots by the door, coats hung in an open closet, keys abandoned on thin tables in the hall. Alfred laughed awkwardly, “No cobwebs or spiders, Toni? Not a very scary haunted house.”

“This isn’t Halloween… the ghost is all we need.”

A shiver ran up the American’s spine and Elizabeth gripped his hand tightly. They were led up the stairs and to the door of Antonio’s room where they stopped.

“Now, amigos, if it gets too scary for you, calmly leave. I don’t want anyone getting hurt. My ghost has requested no flash photography. No pictures at all, actually.”

They nodded and braced themselves… which wasn’t nearly enough to prepare them. Inside the room there was a tornado of items flying around in circles. The chair Lovino loved so much was the largest item flying around with Gilbert seated firmly in it, grasping tightly to the armrests. He had a look of pure adventure on his face and barely-audible “ _Woo_ ”s were echoing about. Francis sat calmly on the bed, his hair being pulled around like he was caught in a wind tunnel. Pens and papers and other smaller items would fly around, drop randomly, or be picked back up.

Elizabeth let out a shriek when one of her ponytails was tugged on and released, leaving her neck with a cold chill. Alfred’s glasses flew off his face and into the madness, landing on Gilbert’s nose.

“What—how?!”

Antonio smiled gently. “ _Ghost_. Hey, Lovi, at least let them see you before they leave.”

A deep groaning shook the walls and the floor trembled with the heavy bass. Alfred was letting strange, high-pitched and fearful gasps leave his throat. Elizabeth was frightened but far too intrigued to let this miracle get to her.

The movements halted and the chair eased down to the floor—more for preserving the legs and the wooden paneling rather than to save Gilbert from harm. All else fell with a thump and the wind halted. Francis tried to brush through his ruined hair and the three watched intently for the next move.

The air before Alfred and Elizabeth froze, as if a window had been opened to allow the snow in. Inches from the American’s nose appeared the pale, clear face of Lovino… the rest of his body barely fading into sight. Alfred’s breathing hitched and he stared, wide-eyed, at the apparition.

In his low, rolling, accented voice, Lovino whispered an eerie, “ _Get out_.” They didn’t need to be told twice—turning tail and rushing back out and down the steps. The front door slammed shut and everything resumed like usual. Lovino momentarily disappeared, though his presence was known as his chair tipped, forcing the albino to the floor, and glided back to its usual corner.

He reappeared in the seat, legs crossed. There was a peaceful aura to him. “Finally… _someone who fucking listens_ when I tell them to leave.”


	5. Should I?

Christmas had come and gone unbelievably fast. Lovino had taken to hiding whenever anyone was around, save for Antonio and his two best friends. He did come through for them, however, when the star on the top of the tree had short in the wire. The Carriedos were heartbroken that this star they had used since the boys were little had died… Lovino had considered lighting it himself his gift to these freeloaders.

Lovino did face a new problem besides the constant hiding and the inability to act as a human when he existed among them; while he couldn’t physically touch those who were alive, he did have a remarkable time connecting emotionally. The problem was he didn’t want these connections, at least not a certain one…

It was really getting on his nerves to constantly fade into the walls or furniture when he’d catch Antonio flashing that gentle smile or laugh or, these days, talk. Lovino was falling for this moron and the worst part… Antonio was jailbait.

_No, the worst fucking part is everything. I’m twenty-two and he’s only just turned eighteen last month. I’m dead and he’s not. I’m a fucking ghost doomed to wander this goddamn house and he’s able to breathe and touch and feel the sun. I miss the sun._

It was January and winter was in full swing. The ghost had to admit, it was nice seeing Antonio so often. Ever since the snow worsened in December he had been home after school nearly every day, the only exceptions were to see his idiot friends or stay back at the school for a test. Sure, it was nice seeing his stupid happy face and watch his stupid warm breath fog up the window when he looked out at the snow… but fuck if it wasn’t hard to not follow him to the shower or check out his ass whenever Lovino was invisible.

Then it happened—the day Antonio had to ruin everything like he always did. Lovino had been minding his own business, snooping through Henrique’s things (not that he’d care, he’d been living illegally with a buddy at the campus housing. He was terrified of Lovino)… then Antonio pranced in the house, calling for him. He met the teen down by the stairs, waiting anxiously. Antonio led him through the hall and began.

“Can we talk?”

Nothing good ever came from those words. The Italian had had his fair share of breakups from those words. But this wasn’t a breakup—they weren’t even together, sadly… _No, not sadly! I don’t fucking—_

“Emma asked me to the school dance.”

_—why would he say that to me, that jerk bastard, do I mean nothing?! …Well shit, Lovino. You went full bitch there._

The ghost didn’t seem to notice the jealously overtaking his image, the shots of hyperrealism to his extremities mixed with overwhelming purples. “Then fucking go, I’m not your mom.”

They continued moving until they were together in the sitting room. Lovino passed by the large window and stopped to look out to the snow. He didn’t need a weather app to tell him it was colder than hell outside. The Spanish teen sat idly on the old loveseat parallel to his seething friend. “You seem mad.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Don’t lie to me.” The harshness in his tone made a light shoot through Lovino. He spun around, eyes trained on the oddly calm teenager. “I know when you lie. You change colors when you’re upset.”

_No, no, no… there’s no way he actually… got to know me. Me! I’m not even alive! How did this little shit—_ “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes I do, Lovi.” Antonio stood and approached the apparition. “You try to hide your past but you can’t hide your present. I haven’t researched who you were out of respect, so you need to understand how hard I’ve tried to know you. Not who you were, but who you are.”  
The snow fall outside increased. Lovino faded, though unintentionally. “Why the fuck do you care?”

“Because I just _do_.”

“Really? So, some shitty little teenager moves into **_my_** house with _**his** _ family and I guess I’m lucky it was you, right? I died and everyone forgot about me! Stop fucking trying! It’ll only be harder to get back to being ignored when you’re gone and at college or wherever the fuck!”

The entire room was chilled. Antonio watched, remorseful to have brought up the dance, as the ghost he knew was yelling like a madman but colored so softly he was hard to see.

“I shouldn’t have brought up Emma,” he admitted. “But I needed to talk to you.”

Lovino stayed still, regaining no color or clarity, but still choosing not to completely fade out visibility. Antonio didn’t expect him to actually stay to listen.

“I wanted you to know I told her I couldn’t go. And I wanted you to know that you’re the reason why.”

For the first time in years Lovino felt his stomach drop. There was a realness within him, like he was flesh and blood. The highness he was used to had vanished in an instant.

“W…why?”

Antonio turned away. “You know why…”

“I don’t.”

Lovino was met again with those bright green orbs of Antonio’s. “Every picture they’ve taken of you, you… you’re looking at me. And every time you throw tantrums and throw my things around, you’ll throw them on the _bed_ instead of the wall. And when I’m exhausted from school you don’t even yell when I sit in your chair.”

_Oh shit. This observant little fuck._ “So what.”

“So I know you like me, okay?” the Spaniard snapped. “And I—I like you, too! But this is really hard because I really, really like you but… I…” he swallowed hard and sniffled. Lovino knew where this was going.

“You can’t be with a dead guy.”

Antonio reluctantly nodded. “I k-know no one’s ever r-really talked about their boyfriend the ghost, but I… I…”

The ghost floated away, returning with the box of tissues from the next room. He handed them over to the now gently sobbing teenager. “I’ll go invisible.” Lovino relented. “You won’t have to see me.”

“No!” Antonio hiccupped and reached out, getting a handful of freezing air. “Please, Lovi, please don’t leave. Please. J-just give it a chance.”

_Wait. What the fuck? Is this idiot seriously suggesting…?_

“I know it’s fucked up,” Antonio weakly said. He grabbed a tissue and wiped at his wet eyes. “Just… try for me.”

Lovino shook his head. “Idiot. You’re the one trying to give up actual, warm happiness because you got a crush on the dead guy who lived here before you.”

Antonio sat back down on the couch and cradled the tissue box in his lap. He patted the cushion next to him, giving a pleading look to Lovino, effectively guilt-tripping the entity to join him. “I make my own decisions. If I want to fuck a ghost, I’ll fuck a ghost!”

“I’ve literally never heard you swear before today.”

“And if I want to give this a chance, then I’d hope you would, too.” Antonio stared into Lovino’s eyes, now brighter than before. He knew his persuasion was working. “Lovi, knowing you has been amazing… and I haven’t felt so close to someone since I met the guys in middle school.”

“You’re looking for a friend,” Lovino whispered.

“No… You can’t deny the emotional connection. That’s why I want this so bad—I felt like I’m walking on air when you’re around.”

“…I feel like I’m walking on land with you.”

This made Antonio perk up. His eyes were dry for the time being and he shoved his tissue into his pocket. “Lovino…?”

_Oh fuck, now I need to explain why I’m talking like some lovesick chick._ “I—you see—when you’re dead, you feel _dead_. And, I, uh… I always feel like I’m just waking up from a dream… like I _need to breathe_ but I’m not suffocating… like I took too much Tylenol…”

“I… I make you feel alive?”

A new color exploded through the ghost, purples melted into tones of pink splotches across his body, predominantly on his face. “It’s the first time I haven’t felt high.”

* * *

Back in the bath. It seemed appropriate since that’s where they met. Also because Antonio was of age and Lovino didn’t feel as much like a pedophile. Antonio’s mother had returned home from work and they needed privacy—and the bedroom was getting a little old.

“What about the water?”

“It’s warm and squishy.”

The ghost picked up a handful of bubbles and blew them forward onto Antonio’s face. “What about me?”

“You’re cold but I get these tingles. Not goosebumps, though. Like excitement.”

Their conversation was ended prematurely and neither wanted to pick up where they left off, sobbing and getting emotional over their situation. When they returned upstairs they had an unspoken agreement—don’t talk about the bad, just pretend it’s all okay again.

They chose learning more instead, further knowing one another to decide better if they should even consider Antonio’s _Corpse Bride_ -esque proposition. Lovino would ask about things he missed since he died, conveniently only asking about ‘today’ rather than ‘since I died.’ He’d ask about what he forgot, about what it felt just to be breathing or to feel warmth or cold.

In turn, Antonio asked about living beyond life. He tried to word his thoughts carefully until Lovino got annoyed and snapped, “Just ask it the ‘offensive’ way, bastard!”

“What do you feel like right now?”

Lovino’s eyebrows knitted together in contemplation. “I’m forgetting what it felt like to be alive, it’s hard to compare… I already told you I feel like I’m high. I was always mad in life but now… I just feel calm, like I’m too sleepy to be pissed. But you know I still get pissed. The thing is, I don’t really feel much when I’ve been alone. Being near you— _fuck_ —I mean people! Being near _people_ makes me remember. And I see y— _them_ move and talk and it hits me I can’t do that. I can’t just go call up my brother like you, I can’t drop myself into a bed and cuddle with shit. I’m just here.”

Antonio poured more bubbles into the bath. “Go on. Tell me everything.”

“I… it’s like spring.”

“Spring?”

“I’m never hot and never cold. My body is spring but my mind is winter. You say I’m cold when I’m near you but I almost feel warm when you’re close.”

Antonio blushed and absentmindedly played with the soap and bubbles in the water.

“When I pass through things I get this head rush. When I turn invisible I feel dizzy but I can’t pass out.”

“Can you sleep?”

“In a way. It’s more like I close my eyes and time speeds up, but I’m so used to it that it’s normal now.”

Antonio nodded. Without thinking he reached his arm out, holding his hand mid-air over Lovino’s shoulder. His palm felt like it was accumulating frost the longer it remained there. Lovino’s eyes met his and the ghost tried to hide the pink blush easing into his face.

“No one’s ever tried to touch me before… you know, like they wanted to just feel me…”

_No one’s even seen me since the wake… Not like those fuckers even tried to reach out to me, the person they were supposed to be mourning._

They continued to sit comfortably in silence. The Spanish teen had to take his hand back and dunk it in the water to regain some feeling. He finished up his bath, slacking on actual cleaning and more wasting time pouring water over himself to see if he could catch the ghost checking him out.

Lovino cursed his inability to look away from a wet, toned body. _Damn you, Antonio. You bastard._

The ghost became invisible again when Antonio stood from the draining water, not even bothering to cover himself. A towel flew off the rack and wrapped around Antonio’s lean hips and he squeaked in surprise when he felt a coolness linger over the bone. “Lovi, bad ghost! You stop that!”

An unearthly chuckle echoed in the small room before it went completely silent again. Antonio assumed he was left alone, though he still dressed himself cautiously in case he had an audience. He was quite proud of himself for not tripping over his own feet as when he put his tomato-printed boxers on.

On return to the bedroom he was almost disappointed to see Lovino sitting in his chair and flipping through one of Antonio’s school books. “This shit is boring.”

“It’s for Advanced Placement English, it’s supposed to be boring.” Antonio grabbed at the towel limp on his shoulders and rubbed his damp hair until it stood up in every direction. “Lovi, we really need to finish our talk.”

The book fell straight into the seat of the chair. Lovino hadn’t meant to drop it but he made mistakes when startled. “Look, Antonio, you’re great and all…”

“Don’t even try it!” The Spaniard tossed the towel to the hamper—missing it completely. “Your only problem with this is physical intimacy, right? Because I have mass and you don’t and I’ll get older and you won’t. Let me tell you right now that I don’t care. I’ve dated guys before—living, breathing men. I even messed around with Gil and Franny a few times when we raided Gil’s parents’ liquor cabinet. Let me tell you, it’s not fun waking up next to your best friend with a hangover and a sore ass.”

Lovino shivered. “Jesus Christ, don’t tell me that shit!”

“My point,” Antonio continued. “Is I’ve had the living. I’ve been through probably half the gay guys at my school…”

“Whore.”

“…and I’ve tried girls, it really wasn’t for me. But you, Lovino. You’re different. Not because you’ve already had to die, but because you’ve already lived. You see things so differently and you make me feel alive, too. My heart beats but it didn’t pound until I first saw you laughing at me in the mirror.”

_In the mirror?_ “You had a crush on me since _then_?”

Antonio nodded, his face was reddening slowly and matched Lovino’s own swirling range of warm colors. “I don’t need to touch you to feel you.”

Then it happened—that stupid jerk bastard did it again. The spring faded away and the first day of summer shown into Lovino’s body. He felt a shiver of warmth and he felt an imaginary heart pulsing through his entire frame. The colors confused together until he was, embarrassingly, entirely pink.

_This fucking kid._

“Give it a chance, Lovi. If you hate it you can go back to haunting me and hiding my things. And if I change my mind… then you can push me down the stairs for all I care, be a malevolent poltergeist! You just can’t deny what we have. I think it’d be a waste to let this go because we’re in different worlds.”

_Wow, I almost forgot what it felt like to be warm. Holy shit, this is weird._ Lovino smirked slightly, hoping his sudden change in demeanor would go unnoticed. “Fine. You little fucking shit. As long as we can keep this summer.”

_Maybe he’s just some young idiot latching on to every crush he ever gets. Maybe Antonio likes to rush into things… I don’t care. If that means I get to feel like this, I wouldn’t mind it… no matter how short this clique romance lasts… I deserve nice things too, god damn it._

The smile that overtook Antonio’s face was the biggest one Lovino had ever seen. He couldn’t help mimicking it, though he still tried to hide it and act like he didn’t care. Lovino glided to stand in front of Antonio, both boys halfway between the bed and chair.

Antonio knew he would savor the iciness freezing his lips. For the first time he grew to appreciate the cold and the ice and shivers in his spine… it meant Lovino was with him.


	6. All The Things

Everything had changed after that day. The snow outside the window continued to fall and leave a frost on the window. A small heart was scratched through the crystals. Antonio spent the night talking in hushed voices with his reluctant new boyfriend. Lovino would whack him with his own pencils when he’d catch the love-struck fool doodling on homework with hearts with A’s and L’s inside.

Seemingly everyone took notice of the Spaniard’s even giddier mood. Nothing could get to him, not even his father yelling at him about a failed math test. Then there was Lovino, who had been drifting the house in a stupor. He started going out of his way to do helpful things, like turn off lights or check that the old gas stove had been turned off. That stupid bastard stove had a habit of kicking on when the knob wasn’t fully turned to the ‘off’ setting.

“Lovi!” Antonio called through the house, sliding through the front door in his wet and slush-covered snow boots. “Lovi, come here! I want to do something!”

A flitter of warmth hit the ghost faster than the voice of Antonio’s could reach his ears. He dissolved through the kitchen wall and appeared before the living, doing his best to look annoyed. “What the fuck is it, Toni?”

The teen swooned at the nickname and slid his smartphone from his pocket. “I want a picture of us. Come next to me for a selfie.”

“Selfie?”

“Uh, a picture you take of yourself. It’s very popular these days.”

“What the fuck ever.” Lovino reappeared beside Antonio. He knew he usually appeared blurry in photos— _fuck you, Gilbert and your fucking candid addiction_ —so he contemplated this. Lovino focused on Antonio and life and wanting to be seen. This resulted in the best photograph he had ever taken, in life and death.

Antonio gaped at the image on his phone. There he was, tan and bright-eyed and overjoyed (as he usually looked in selfies). Then, next to him, was Lovino, floating to appear inches taller and skin glowing. His own eyes were brighter than Antonio had ever seen and his skin, while tinted blue, was clear and bled light. His previous tan and dark hair was visible… he almost looked alive.

“I need this framed right now!” The teen chirped and hopped up the stairs. Lovino’s eyes widened as he flew after him.

“You jackass! Don’t you dare! I don’t need a picture of me in some dark room! I’LL SEE MYSELF ON SOME GHOST DISCOVERY SHOW YOU LIVING FUCKERS LIKE SO MUCH!”

They stopped at the top of the stairs and Antonio’s face held a great amount of pure confusion before realization lit his eyes. “Oh, I get it now. Lovi, we can print this here, at home. Only old people still go to stores to have things developed.”

_This fucking century, I swear to god._

They walked and floated to Henrique’s abandoned bedroom. In front of the windows was a desk with an old laptop gathering dust and a blocky printer covered in Apple and

Monster Energy stickers. Antonio loved the look on Lovino’s face when he explained how far Apple and Mac computers have come. Lovino whined about liking the rainbow apple design better.

“Fucking minimalistic bullshit.”

Antonio opened his brother’s laptop, clicking in a password, and plugging a wire into his phone and into the USB port. The entire time the ghost was marveling at the equipment and how cool his living friend— _boyfriend_ —knew how to work it all.

“Lovi, can you turn the printer on? It’s the big square with a tomato-y thing on it.”

The ghost shot him a look and inspected the block of plastic and metal. He felt accomplished when he actually found the fucking button with a white circle and vertical line sticking through it. The soft hissing of it gaining life caught the ghost off guard. “Technology can give you internet on a phone but not make this shit quieter?!”

Antonio giggled and finally got around to printing the image. Of course he was an airhead and forgot to change the paper, causing him and Lovino to hunt through the entire downstairs of the house for the “yellow packet of shiny paper.” Then Antonio forgot to change image dimensions, then the ink ran out and printed everything with spotty lines and muted colors that weren’t even in the original image to begin with.

It was nearly an hour after the picture was taken that he finally got it printed out. Lovino took to holding the small, four-inches-tall glossy paper. His hands couldn’t smear the fresh ink and he realized now how great this was. He had never seen himself so happy in a picture since his parents died. It was a nice change.

They then spent another half-hour hunting the house for a suitable frame. Antonio relented on a frame with a picture of his soccer team, removing the photo and instead placing it on the mirror attached to the dresser. It was held in place by the mirror’s wooden frame, which had just enough space between the wood and glass to shove paper in.

Antonio was about to set the new image down on his nightstand when Lovino stopped him, grabbing the picture himself since he couldn’t grab Antonio’s wrist. “No. Put it on my stand.”

That was the first time Lovino had something new, something inanimate that brought him happiness like Feliciano used to get joy from a stuffed rabbit. The sparkling bits of deep blue in his skin didn’t go unnoticed by Antonio, who hovered his hand over Lovino’s.

“What’s wrong?”

Lovino turned away, choosing to react like a human rather than a ghost who could fade away at any moment. “I just thought of my brother.”

“You’ve mentioned him before. What was his name?”

“Feliciano. He was my little brother. The last time I saw him was at my wake…”

Antonio tilted his head like a confused puppy. “I thought you couldn’t leave this house?”

“I can’t. The wake was downstairs, dumbass.”

Antonio’s face lost all color. “So you’re saying… there was a dead person in this house?!”

Lovino smacked him with a pillow. “I died here, you moron!” The teen hiccupped and tried not to laugh. Lovino reddened slightly when he caught on to the joke. “You’re an idiot.”

“I love you too, Lovi!”

* * *

There was a sleepover at Gilbert’s house the following week. His birthday was something he always made a huge deal out of, despite never throwing a party and instead spending the entire day with Francis and Antonio.

Antonio felt lucky Lovino wasn’t jealous of him spending the night away… though this might have been because he showed Lovino how to use a computer and how DVDs worked. The ghost was so adorably excited when he saw the DVD collection and was told they didn’t even have to be rewound! The Spaniard left the house with Lovino sitting on a stack of movies and a laptop plugged into the wall.

It was still snowing like there was no tomorrow but the trio didn’t mind. Gilbert’s parents were both out visiting family back in Germany, leaving the boys alone… along with Gilbert’s brother, of course.

The awkwardness that followed the last time they all got drunk together prevented them from raiding the beer in the refrigerator, though Antonio failed to mention why he _especially_ didn’t want to accidentally have sex with them again. He felt almost embarrassed at the notion of telling his friends he was in a relationship. With an older man. Who was _dead_.

“Cake, cake!” Gilbert was whining. They gathered to the kitchen where Ludwig, Gilbert’s younger brother, had been setting the candles on top of the cake. They were giant numbers in wax, a very obvious **_19_** on top of the icing. Ludwig had refused to use the individual sticks, apparently still scarred from the eighteen candles incident of the previous year.

Ludwig was a baker, oddly enough. He was only a sophomore at their high school, the biggest guy on the football team, and secretly _loved_ baking. Well, maybe it was not so much a secret but more an unexpected tidbit. He had spent all day preparing the birthday cake, muttering to himself about needing the cake to cool before the icing process and needing to find tips for piping.

“It’s done, just try not to make a mess.” Ludwig was more than ready to scold the immature seniors invading his kitchen space. He stepped back and watched his older, shorter brother take a seat. Ludwig even joined in on singing, though monotone.

And, as always, Ludwig removed the burnt candles afterward… and Francis and Antonio smacked Gilbert’s face into the edge of the cake. How Gilbert forgot this tradition every year was a mystery.

The four sat together, laughing at how ridiculous Gilbert looked with white hair and a face covered in chocolate icing. They sat and ate and passed out presents. Ludwig went red in the face when he saw the special gift Francis had procured… and the bottle of lube that went with it. Antonio had a boxed present he worked hard on finding, and he knew he did good when Gilbert was left speechless.

Inside Antonio’s box was a feather quill and an attachable metal nib for calligraphy, an inkwell, a bottle of replacement ink, and a leather bound notebook. No one could say he didn’t try when it came to gift-giving.

Ludwig had already given his present earlier that day—being a new set of weights and a black tank-top the albino had been eyeing.

The sun set before eight that day and the house was illuminated with light while the modest celebration continued on.

* * *

The stack of movies was divided into categories: **Now** , **Maybe** , and **What the Hell, Antonio**? Lovino knew he couldn’t watch them all in one day—it was impossible unless he skipped through them, which he wasn’t about to do to himself. Antonio had gathered him every movie he could without there being suspicious gaps in the downstairs shelves. He left behind movies he knew would be ignored, like _The Passion of the Christ_ and _Shrek 2_. Lovino was still baffled at the amount his idiot roommate thought he might like.

 _The Boondock Saints_ , _Corky Romano_ , _RENT_ , _Napoleon Dynamite_ , _Die Hard_ , and _Hot Fuzz_ were only a few of them. Half of the massive stack had come out before he died, so he had seen a few of them… though he had never been much into movies in life. Oddly enough the idea was exciting as hell now that he was dead and had nothing else to do.

Lovino eyed the first case and the Catholic imagery caught his eye. _This couldn’t be too sacrilegious, right? It might be decent._

Two hours later he was staring blankly at the computer screen. Oh, if he had one of those cell phones he would be screaming at Antonio right now! How dare he own such a magnificent movie that made him feel bad for liking it! _The bastard!_

* * *

Ludwig had left the party after he finished his cake and cleaned up the torn shreds of tissue and wrapping paper. Now that he was gone the boys felt safer discussing certain _issues_.

“How is your little ghost doing?” Francis asked between bites of cake. Antonio smiled and he resented his cheeks for not letting him stop.

“He’s good, I taught him how to watch movies on computers.”

Gilbert scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Jesus, how long ago did he even die? Everyone knows how to use computers!”

“Nineteen-nineties. He won’t say much more than that, though.”

Francis did a double-take. “Lovino died twenty years ago?”

“No,” Antonio said a little too defensively. “He died in the nineties!”

“It’s twenty-fifteen, Toni. He’s been dead for sixteen to twenty-five years. He said he was twenty-two. _He’d be middle-aged by now_.”

Antonio had never thought of it that way, or even considered doing the math. “S-so… Lovi is… kind of old, isn’t he?”

This never occurred to the teenager. He knew Lovino had died somewhat recently at a somewhat young age… but to think, had he lived he would be in his thirties or forties! Antonio wouldn’t even consider dating such an older man! Lovino’s hesitance made sense now, it wasn’t just being dead, it was knowing he should be old!

“Toni, you alright?” Gilbert asked. He wiped a bit of hardened icing from his cheek.

He nodded and rubbed his neck, “I just didn’t think he would be that old by now.”

They stopped in their tracks when the blonde head of Ludwig reappeared in the doorway, phone in hand. “Bruder, my charger has a short. Can I borrow yours?”  
“Go ahead, West,” Gilbert replied automatically. “But it’s stuck behind the dishwasher.”

Ludwig sighed but accepted his fate. The dishwasher had an electrical socket behind it, for some reason Gilbert always preferred using the most difficult places for charging things. The washer couldn’t be moved without forcing Francis or Antonio to uproot themselves and move to the other side of the cramped kitchen, so Ludwig let it be in order to remain a polite host.

He needed to make a call but he didn’t want his brother overhearing it. Gilbert liked to tease him whenever he needed to focus, no matter what the topic.

“Who are you calling?” the albino called loudly to annoy his brother. “Your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Ludwig growled. “And I need to speak with him about the parameters of our assignment due tomorrow!” The German angrily plugged his phone in and tapped around before placing it to his ear.

Gilbert turned back to his friends, gloating, “Yeah, West takes a few courses at the college. He’s too advanced for some of our classes at school.”

Francis looked amazed. “Wow, really? And he’s only sixteen?”

“Ja, he’s a bit of a prodigy, he gets it from his awesome big bruder.”

Said prodigy waved his hand around irritably and shushed them. “Ja, hello, it’s me. I needed to know if you remember the formatting for the paper due tomorrow. Ja, the one on Nero. I don’t want to lose a letter grade because my spacing is wrong. Ja, ja. Really, twelve-point?”

Gilbert blew air out his lips. “Nerd!”

“Bruder! Anyway, thank you, Feliciano. Text me if you need more sources.”

Antonio’s heart dropped to his knees and he felt a familiar dread forming. _Feliciano_?


	7. Wait Forever

There was nothing Antonio wanted more than to learn about Lovino but he couldn’t betray his trust and find his obituary or look up his family! Then again, he felt bad not reaching out to this Feliciano who may or may not be the same one Lovino was related to! Antonio would certainly want to know if Henrique was a ghost—at least he was still on earth and not _completely_ gone!

He had been quiet since he returned home, consumed in thought and just what he should do about this. He still didn’t know if he should come out to his friends about the relationship; they were supportive and loving but they would definitely disapprove of this.

Lovino took notice of the change in behavior, worried that something happened… like something whorish and involving another drunken threesome. _If that bastard pulled that shit on me his Xbox is going out the fucking window._ Yet, Lovino sensed it wasn’t a betrayal that Antonio was hiding, but he was definitely hiding something.

So he did what any good ghost would do—he cornered that bastard in the bathroom.

“Lovi, please, I know we’re dating but I need to wash myself!” The Spanish teen was uncharacteristically bashful. The ghost was floating in the center of the tiled room, arms crossed, a look of determination in his eyes.

“I’ll leave you to wash your nasty, oily skin when you fucking tell me why you’re being so goddamn weird!”

Antonio was out of bubble bath and out of ways to hide his naked self. His legs were pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped awkwardly around them. “Please, the water is about to go cold!”

“That’s not my problem, bastard.”

Time for a compromise. “Let me bathe in peace and I’ll tell you! Promise!”

Lovino considered this, ready to leave. “I’m not fucking giving you time to get your story straight!” He vanished and reappeared in the tub again, cooling the air around him. “How about I fucking freeze you to death so I can spend all eternity bugging you, huh?!”

With a desperate whine, Antonio relented. “It’s about your brother!” He hated himself for saying it so soon, especially seeing that indescribable look of fear on Lovino’s face. “When I was at Gil’s house, his brother said the name Feliciano, and it’s so uncommon I figured it was the same person…”

Weakly, Lovino asked, “Was it?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to snoop into your life without your permission.”

Lovino faded off, disappearing completely. He flew back to the bedroom, enduring the head rushes crashing into him while he slid through walls and anything in his way. _He… he almost found my brother… my brother is alive… I…_

Antonio joined him after his bath, concern replacing the guilt from before. Above the corner chair was a dusty, old book floating. He approached it, peering at the pages and finding it wasn’t just a book but a photo album.

Lovino made himself visible and turned the book around, showing off a family portrait. It was only an older man, a small baby, and a slightly younger Lovino. “We took this after Feli was born. It was just the three of us by then.”

Antonio leaned on the armrest and looked closer at the creased picture. “What about your parents?”

Lovino exhaled quietly and turned back to an earlier page with him as a small child and scattered wedding images. They were all mixed up, like the person creating it had no use for a timeline. “We took these before Feli was born. Some of these were before I was born. That man,” he pointed to a wedding photograph, “Was my father. And that woman was my mother.”

The page turned again to his mother, holding her huge belly, with a teenage Lovino standing with her. “I was eighteen here. Mom got knocked up at the worst time, I swear. Dad took this picture… he died a month later in a car accident. It was just us after that.”

The page turned again to Feliciano’s newborn photograph. He was small and red with a soft blue beanie and blanket wrapped around him. Lovino sighed. “This was when Feli was born. There were… complications. My mother died during an emergency C-section. Nonno—my grandfather—was already at the hospital with me when we got the news. After that he had to take care of Feli and raise him. I… I tried to help, but I just graduated and going to college. I always regretted not spending more time with him…”

By now the dead man was fading in and out, blues overtaking him. Antonio wanted to stop him and tell him it was okay but he needed to know this, he had to know what happened in the past. It killed him to let the Italian go on and relive this.

Antonio took note of the dates scribbled on the bottoms of the Polaroid’s and glossy papers. Under Feliciano’s baby picture was “ ** _Feliciano Vargas, 7 lbs 4 oz, b. March 17, 1993_**.”

“Your brother is twenty-two?”

“Just like me,” Lovino laughed humorlessly. “I wonder if he’ll break my record.” The ghost dropped the open book to the chair and went to his bedside table, pulling the drawer open. Antonio had never seen the inside of the drawer and was curious what was hidden inside. “Come over here.”

Antonio approached the ghost and looked inside the space, finding neatly piled books and a stack of photographs. “Were these yours?”

“Yeah. My nonno put these here when he was cleaning out the house. Everything else was packed up. They’re either in the dump or with Feli now.”

Lovino was tired. This felt like the day he died, ironically sprung on him by finding out someone he knew was alive. He opted to wander the house like he used to, informing Antonio he could go through his things if he wanted. He could contact Feliciano if he wanted—Lovino just didn’t care anymore.

Antonio had placed the contents of the drawer on the bed neatly, wanting to replace them in the same order when he was finished. He flipped through the old pictures, finding they were mostly developed images from disposable cameras or Polaroid’s. There were pictures of what he assumed were Lovino’s friends, cats, ‘nonno,’ and random houses. Mixed in were some black-and-white school pictures, which wouldn’t seem so weird if there wasn’t a year printed on the corner.

Lovino was eighteen when he graduated high school… which, as his senior picture said on the bottom, was in nineteen-ninety-three. “Lovi graduated before I was even _born_?”

Okay, Antonio had to know what year Lovino died _right now._ He scampered back and grabbed the photo album, laying it flat with the pictures on the bed and flipping through it until he found Lovino’s own baby picture. The image was old and faded and he looked almost exactly like Feliciano, but all newborns look alike. “ ** _Lovino Vargas, 5 lbs 2 oz, b. March 17, 1974_**.”

“The seventies? My boyfriend was born in the seventies?!” Antonio crashed around his room, looking for a calculator, forgetting he had two different apps for it on his phone. He smacked the buttons down with force. “Lovi would be _forty-one_ today?!”

This was too much. Oh how Antonio wished he had left his handsome boyfriend’s natural age a mystery. Francis had been too right, he was dating a middle-aged man! He was almost lucky Lovino died at only twenty-two. New waves of guilt stabbed through Antonio when he realized how horrible of a person he was for thinking that.

Lovino came back around midnight, tired of the same boring crevices of the same boring house. Everything had been put back where it belonged. Antonio was already in bed and asleep and Lovino didn’t want to disturb him, so he left a note instead. Neatly folded on some lined paper from Antonio’s backpack and left on the other night table was his message. After this time drifting, he decided to leave a more definite request rather than his _‘I don’t care’_ thought. He then drifted away, deciding to check the entire house in secrecy for anything that might be off. He was not about to let the family die of a gas leak or be victim to a robbery if they forgot to lock the doors.

* * *

The next morning Antonio found the folded paper, scanning over it with his tired eyes hoping to wake up. “ **Find him** ” was all it said. The unease of the night before lingered within him but he pushed it back, confident that he had a mission to help Lovino and whatever family he had left.

Antonio spent the next few hours with this mission bouncing around his mind, daydreaming during class to plan it, doodling on scratch paper to take notes for himself. His friends flagged him down in the halls to try to ask what the hell he was doing—having class with him and seeing him act so erratically in each one—only to be brushed off. Antonio skipped lunch to spend time in the school library, wracking his brain and trying to remember what Lovino’s last name was. He saw it written—what was it? Vega? Smith? Vandus? Vendes? Something with a V? Carriedo—no wait, that was _his_ name.

Thank God for Google and the apparently uncommon first name of Feliciano! There was an excitement blooming within the Spaniard, finally having found the name online!

There were Facebook profiles, job search site information, apparently MySpace was still in use… But all were locked. All the profiles either had obscured images or pictures of inanimate objects like cars. He was hoping to at least see a face like Lovino’s somewhere but his efforts were fruitless.

The bell rang and Antonio packed up his things and rushed to his next class on the other end of the school.

* * *

This was his only option left, along with the easiest and most obvious one. Antonio eyed Gilbert from across the classroom and felt his hand twitch nervously. They were in their Computer Programming class but had been separated after Gilbert made the poor life choice of blowing off his classwork to make typography art… of a penis made out of Antonio’s full name. That was an awkward detention to explain.

The school issued each student their own e-mail through the school’s website meant for checking online for homework or contacting teachers or counselors. Along with e-mail was a small IM service for the students to talk through, which was ‘monitored’ by the state.

Most students in class kept their IM open, using the excuse that it was to ask each other questions quietly. Antonio had never seen anyone actually use it for those purposes but didn’t care, he didn’t either and their teacher usually spent class surfing YouTube and eating oranges.

Antonio clicked open IM and hoped today wasn’t one of Gilbert’s dreaded productive days.

* * *

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : Gil

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : GIL

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : Im pregnant

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : its yours

 **Beilschmidt.Gilbert** : _NU_

 **Beilschmidt.Gilbert** : _I WANT A DNA TEST_

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : I need ur help

 **Beilschmidt.Gilbert** : _ill email u the work I finished this yesterday_

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : It’s with something else. I need to talk to your brother

* * *

 The albino scooted his seat back and leaned backward to see his friend past the heads of all the kids between them. He raised an eyebrow and made a motion with his hands, one hand forming a circle and the other hand using one finger was poking through it.

Antonio shook his head and mouthed, ‘ _Not sex_.’ He rolled his eyes and ignored the smartass grin on Gilbert’s face.

* * *

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : I need to get a number from him

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : Or meet with him. I don’t have any classes with him

 **Beilschmidt.Gilbert** : _Why_

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : Ill tell u after school

 **Beilschmidt.Gilbert** : _is this what u were being weird about all day???_

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : Si.

 **Beilschmidt.Gilbert** : _Translate!_

 **Carriedo.Antonio** : Yes.

* * *

Francis’s car was, in a word, banging. He had received it as a birthday present the year before from his father, who had bought the car and been restoring it since Francis was in middle school. Most of it had been replaced or repaired and all the work paid off; Francis was known as the senior with the hottest car.

That car got him laid plenty of times in the past year.

While Antonio usually took the bus home, being a humble person who didn’t want to burden his friends (or pay for gas), he accepted the offer for a ride. Gilbert had been riding his ass since class let out and Francis was now also dying to know what was up. They knew Antonio’s conversation topics were now of a sensitive nature and had to wait for a more private setting to speak.

As soon as they closed the doors to the little sports car he was bombarded with questions. Antonio held his hands up and shushed them. “Give me a second! I need to do my seatbelt.”

“You can do your seatbelt while talking,” Gilbert groaned.

“Done. I need to speak with your brother’s friend from college.”

Gilbert thought back. “Wait, you mean Feli?”

“Yes, Feliciano. It’s rather important.”

Francis toyed with the heating unit of the car and grumbled at how long it was taking to defrost the windshields. “Why, Toni?”

They weren’t at all expecting to hear that Feliciano, Ludwig’s friend from college, happened to be Lovino’s own brother. The odds were outstanding, but then again, so were the chances of meeting a ghost.

“Mein bruder is friends with your ghost’s bruder?!”

Antonio nodded. “It’s not a common name. His last name is Vargas, isn’t it? Lovino showed me his old family album. I saw little baby Feli and Lovino before he died.”

The car hummed and the windows cleared up. Francis threw the car into drive and took off down the road. There was an unspoken agreement to head straight to Gilbert’s house where the three planned to ambush Ludwig and find everything they can about Feliciano.


	8. I Remember Now

Ludwig didn’t arrive home until past five o’clock, having stayed back at the college’s library to do work. The concept of actually trying was a weird one to the trio of friends, who had been lucky enough to glide through school with minimal effort. They were each required to take a foreign language to graduate… which was easy for teenagers already bilingual, fluent in Spanish, French, and German.

It was obvious the teen had also hit the campus gym since he absolutely reeked of sweat and failed deodorant. They let their ambush plans wait because they were not willing to interrogate a sweaty sixteen-year-old who could easy snap Francis in half.

Once a shower had been experienced, Ludwig rejoined the awaiting seniors in the living room. His hair was damp and hung over his forehead, making him appear his age for once. It was clear he was in no mood for shenanigans. “Okay, bruder. What is it you texted me during class for?”

Antonio coughed. “I needed you for something. That Feliciano you were on the phone with—can you describe him? What was his last name?”

Ludwig did a double-take and lifted his eyebrows. “Feliciano? Why?”

“We will be asking the questions!” Gilbert screamed, standing from the couch. He had a habit of playing good-cop-bad-cop and it drove Ludwig insane.

“Bruder!” The blonde took a seat across from the three trouble-makers. “His name is Vargas. I met him in my math class and he just started singing and laughing and talking in the weird accents.” Ludwig rubbed his temples—a common occurrence when Feliciano was the topic. “He’s an inch or so shorter than me. Pale skin, brown hair and eyes, very thin. Slight Italian accent. He has this cowlick or something, it makes this one curl of hair stick out. It is very strange.”

Lovino’s own side-curl popped into Antonio’s head. “Can I have his number? Or meet him? It’s _very_ important!”

“I’m not going to give out his number!”

“But his brother really wants to—” Antonio stopped midsentence and horror overtook his face. He couldn’t believe he just let that slip and, by the matching expressions on Francis’s and Gilbert’s faces, neither could they.

Ludwig became suspicious. “Feliciano doesn’t have a bruder.”

Gilbert mumbled, “Not anymore.” Francis promptly elbowed him in the ribs. “What?! It’s time we stop pussyfooting around! West, we met the ghost of your boyfriend’s dead brother. He likes to throw shit at me.”

“Gilbert!” Antonio cried, becoming frantic.

Ludwig was losing his patience fast and stood to leave. “He’s not my boyfriend and _stop this!_ I’m not letting you drag mein friend into one of your stupid pranks!”

Antonio stood and grabbed to Ludwig’s ridiculously large bicep. “Wait! He’s telling the truth. If you don’t believe me I can prove it! Feliciano was born March seventeenth and he’s twenty-two this year. His mother died in delivery and his father died in a crash before he was born. His brother died when he was three. He had a bunny doll when he was little.”

Something sparked in Ludwig’s eyes and they softened. The descended Italian friend of his did mention losing his family and his birthday.

“He had an older brother named Lovino. His brother died at his house— my house— before we were born… and he _really_ wants to see Feliciano again.”

Ludwig sighed. He knew there were no such things as ghosts and he didn’t want to give in to what could be the most emotionally-traumatizing prank of his idiot brother… But he would love to see Feliciano be reunited with family when he had already lost them all at such a young age.

It came to be that Ludwig would sit down and call Feliciano while Antonio called his home phone and pray that Lovino picked it up.

_Ring ring ring…_ “This is the Carriedo residence, we’re not available at the moment—” Antonio sighed dramatically into the receiver. He was positive he’d get something done—

“…please leave a message at the beep.”

“Hola!” he cried. “It’s Toni! I sure hope _someone’s_ home, I need to talk to _someone_!”

There was static and clicking, finally a distorted voice came through. It was muddled and sounded like it was speaking through a fan, but the deep voice of Lovino still came through, albeit in patches. “ _A-nio?_ ”

“Lovi!”

The other occupants of the room stared at the Spaniard in disbelief. Did he actually just call a ghost on the phone? Ludwig shook it off, refusing to believe in such nonsense, and dialed Feliciano. The Italian was overjoyed to receive a call.

“Ja, it’s me. Look, Feli, I need you to do something for me. Mein bruder’s friend needs to know a few things. Ja, ja… Did you have a bruder?”

Antonio whispered into his own phone, “Gil’s brother is talking to _your_ brother.”

Ludwig shuddered. “You did? Was his name Lovino, by chance? H….How did I know? Uh, well… I can’t believe I’m saying this. Would you like to come to my house? This would be easier in person.” There was a pause and Ludwig clasped his free hand to his ear and held the phone away. “Calm down, Feli! Yes, we can have pasta! Fine, auf widersehen!”

Antonio eyed the blonde until the younger teen said, “He’s coming over. You can talk to him yourself.”

* * *

“Why can’t you leave the house?”

“I just can’t.”

“Why?” Antonio whined.

“I don’t fucking know, it’s not like there’s a meeting for dead people! There’s no rule book I can check out!”

Antonio had stopped back home to retrieve a few things to prove he was legitimate when Feliciano would arrive at Gilbert’s. He was gingerly packing the photo album into his school bag, now empty of books. Francis sat at the end of the bed, tossing his keys between his hands.

“You probably can’t leave because you died here.”

Lovino and Antonio both stopped to look at the Frenchmen.

“Think about it, why would he be able to leave? Do you ever see ghosts in the wrong setting? I’ve never heard of a ghost dying at a school and haunting an apartment. You only see ghosts _where they die._ You probably can only go a certain radius away from where you actually died—or only move around the area.”

“Makes sense,” the ghost admitted.

“Speaking of which, where did you die?”

“Here, dumbass.”

“I mean specifically,” Francis chided. “How did you die?”

Lovino didn’t answer, instead turning away and floating through the wall, calling back to tell him what happens tonight. They couldn’t understand why he was being so secretive about his own death, something anyone could look online, but they let it be.

Francis huffed and got to his feet, firmly grasping his keys. “Why won’t he just tell us?”

“I guess when you’re a ghost all you have left is what made you that way.”

* * *

There was a red car in the driveway when they returned and Francis grumbled for a solid minute about having to park his baby in the street ‘like a goddamn animal.’ Antonio pulled the backpack from between his legs and dusted the bottom before he got out of the vehicle. He carried it carefully and with purpose. It hit him that this would be the first time the photo album even left that house in almost twenty years.

They let themselves in and automatically heard a happy, chipper laugh. It was new and unheard but welcoming. The further they walked in the more they heard and saw. They saw Gilbert’s white hair by the kitchen entrance, then they saw the back of a man about his height but thinner.

There it was. The infamous curl.

Gilbert turned and called out, “We’re in the kitchen!” when he saw his friends. They hurried in, noting the pasta on the table. The German brothers definitely did not provide that.

By the sink was a container with ‘Feli’ scrawled on it in marker. Antonio was astounded by the resemblance between the Italian brothers, finally entering the room enough to see the newcomer.

Feliciano looked remarkably like Lovino. His skin was much fairer, sure, and his hair lighter, but he was definitely his brother. It was a small disappointment to see chocolate brown eyes instead of the emerald ones he had fallen for but he didn’t mind it.

The brunette smiled at everyone and closed his big eyes. “I’m Feli! Would you like some pasta?”

They nodded without thinking. Antonio sat the backpack on the table and stared at the college student like some kind of creep. They looked so alike, same age and all… but how could they be so different?

They ate their dinner, amazed at the beautiful cooking of the guest. He was going on and on about school and cats and how Ludwig was his best friend but so was some guy named Kiku. It was adorable to see an adult be so excited about everything. It reminded Antonio of how excited Lovino got when he saw how computers had wireless mice and could play DVD’s. _“Grandpa’s old dinosaur couldn’t play our VHS tapes! This fucking future shit!”_

They waited a few minutes after dinner to spring their news on the man. Francis took the initiative to start it. “So, Feli, Antonio wanted to tell you something.”

Feliciano giggled and turned to Antonio, having been told upon arrival that he was ‘the hopeless one with short hair.’ “What is it, Toni? Can I call you Toni?”

_“Stop calling me Lovi, damn it. It’s a stupid nickname. How would you like it if I called you Toni?”_

Antonio shook himself from his memory. “Ah, that’s fine.” He stopped to think about what he was doing. He was going to forever alter this man’s life, for good or bad he didn’t know. Feliciano had been orphaned and lost all of his family if his research was correct. Would he be relieved to know he had family? Would he be enraged and think this was a prank, like Ludwig?

Antonio stopped his doubts; he knew he was doing this for Lovino, not Feliciano, as harsh at that sounds. He pulled his bag to him and took the album out, aware of all the sets of eyes on him. “I don’t know how to say this, but… I’m a friend of your brother’s.”

Feliciano’s calm face fell and his gentle features hardened. “How dare you.” His eyes darted around to everyone in the room. “My brother died before any of you were even born. Ludwig, this isn’t funny—”

Antonio sat the album down in front of the irate man and flipped to the center, which had been filled with pictures of Lovino and baby Feliciano. “I moved into his house. This is him, si?” He pointed to the younger Lovino holding a sleeping Feliciano. “He’s still there and he wants to see you.”

Feliciano stared wordlessly at the pages. “Nonno said he lost these…”

“Lovino said he left them at the house. In Lovino’s room. They were in a drawer with his things.”

“I…” the brunette slid his finger around a few images and flipped the page. “I’ve never seen my baby pictures before.”

“They’re all Lovi looks at. He’s been kind of down lately. He really misses you, Feliciano. He’s missed you every day since he died.”

Feliciano continued to flip through the stiff pages, taking extra time to admire the family portrait of Lovino and his parents. “Nonno used to say I look just like him. He’s right.”

“You have no idea. His voice is a lot deeper, though, and he swears more.”

Feliciano shut the book and held it to his chest briefly before saying, “I want to see him.”


	9. Down

Mr. Carriedo was less than pleased to see his son return home with a group of people when it was almost midnight. He had taken Antonio aside to scream at him for quite a while. Francis, Gilbert, Ludwig, and Feliciano tried to make small talk outside to ignore it. They couldn’t help but catch a few particular words and accusations… “First you say the fucking house is haunted and now you’re inviting all your little hooligan friends over past your curfew?! Where did I go wrong with you?”

His father loudly stomped up the stairs and Antonio rejoined his friends on the front porch. “He’s not happy but he never is, so whatever.” They were perturbed at how nonchalant he was. Instead of going through the house they circled around through the fence and into the backyard. It was freezing out but the snow hadn’t fallen in a while. It was predicted to melt and bring an early spring, which was something none of them could believe when they couldn’t feel their noses.

They approached the large tree and broken swing and Feliciano felt the icy, broken rope, commenting how Lovino had set it up to teach him to swing when he was old enough. He instead had to learn at a park with his grandfather. The only things he knew about his brother were what he was told by his grandfather or Lovino’s old friends.

Antonio rubbed his arms and craned his neck for a better view of the window to his bedroom. He couldn’t see anything inside, which was expected since Lovino rarely made himself visible if he wasn’t there. He picked up a small rock and blew on his numbing but still pained fingers.

The rock smacked the glass and the ringing was exaggerated by the stillness of the night. The window jiggled before it slid up. The group watched, waiting for an angry Carriedo to stick their head out. A small breeze brushed Antonio’s shoulder and he felt the goosebumps again. Lovino was here.

Antonio smiled and turned around to the group. “Okay, Lovi’s here. Lovi, that really muscular guy is Ludwig, Gilbert’s brother. And the next to him is _your_ brother. Don’t be shy, Feli really wants to meet you, too.”

There was nothing. No sounds, so winds, nothing to indicate Lovino was actually there. Antonio feared he was wrong. Maybe that was just a chill he felt? Maybe Henrique was home and in his room, messing with him? It _was_ pretty dark out.

A creaking startled them and they turned around to find the swing moving. The torn rope was knotted, making the seat uneven. There was a tugging on the repaired rope, tightening the knot. Slowly, as if unsure, Lovino’s body came into view. He was pure blue and still transparent, but he was _there_. Feliciano gasped and stared as his brother filled out more, finally becoming fully visible. His coloring returned in bursts of smoke, like exhaled breath in the air. He floated inches above the snow, making him the tallest one there.

Feliciano lunged forward, trying to hug the apparition. He made a noise when his arms went straight through, but was not deterred. He stepped back and held his arms around Lovino’s airy form, accepting the simulation.

“Jesus Christ, you were always a needy little fucker.”

Feliciano giggled and stepped back. “Toni was right! You do swear a lot.”

“Ask him how many people he fucked. I’ll look like a fucking _angel_.”

Antonio’s face went red and he mumbled that it wasn’t that many people. “Admit one drunken night and you never live it down…”

Lovino flipped him off and guided Feliciano to the swing. While he couldn’t push his brother, he could still move the seat and rope. The sight of Feliciano laughing on the crooked swing while Lovino held the ropes, feet on the bench, was the sweetest thing Antonio had ever seen. After nineteen years Lovino could finally follow through on his promise to push Feliciano on the swing.

The temperature continued to drop and the boys congregated at the back porch, hoping the house would block the winds. While Gilbert and Francis wanted to jump in their cars and go home already, everyone else protested—either living there or still not satisfied with the amount of time spent with the ghostly man.

Lovino would laugh at them and mock them for feeling the cold. “Being dead finally fucking pays off!” Antonio and Feliciano seemed to be the only ones who still found Lovino to be a delight.

The moon was obscured by the clouds and Ludwig grumbled about it being very early in the morning and needing to go home. The group split up but Feliciano stopped, taking Antonio’s phone to program his number in. “Call or text any time. Both of you.” He winked at his long-gone brother and waved before he rounded the house with the others to leave. Antonio rubbed his hands together and entered the house with Lovino.

They made it back to the bedroom and Antonio immediately shed his clothes off, getting down to just his boxers. He made a beeline for the dresser and ripped drawers open to pull out his warm, fleece pajamas and hiking socks. Then he dived under his covers, wrapping himself up tightly. Lovino watched the entire time, glad for once that he couldn’t feel. _The cold must suck._

Antonio was still shivering so Lovino left the room to raid Henrique’s abandoned one. He took all the blankets from the bed and all the quilts from the closet. When he returned to Antonio he layered them over his form but saved one thin quilt for himself. Antonio was half-asleep but aware of his presence. The Spaniard cracked an eye open only to find Lovino putting on one of his own jackets. It looked odd and unreal, this partially-visible man in his old track team jacket.

Lovino then laid himself on the top of all the covers and pulled the last quilt over himself. Antonio was confused and cold (but warming up) and far too tired to ask what was happening. Lovino’s skin burst into small blossoms of pink and purple again as he reached around and laid his clothed arm around Antonio.

“Lovi… are you trying to cuddle me?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re the sweetest thing—”

_“I will smother you.”_

Antonio smiled and snuggled into his pillow. There was a light weight he could barely feel through the five blankets that he knew was Lovino’s arm in his jacket. Look at that—Lovino found a way to hold him when he couldn’t even touch him.

* * *

Antonio woke up to see his phone floating above his bed. He turned over and groaned out, “Remember to charge it.”

“Whatever.”

Lovino didn’t bother to become visible. He sat down (as much as he could) on the bed. The jacket was forgotten, draped over his sleepy boyfriend. The phone buzzed a few times and Lovino congratulated himself on teaching himself how to text.

* * *

**Feli** : _U learned 2 text :DDD !!!!_

**Sent** : Goddamn it

**Feli** : _does Toni know ur using his phone?_

**Sent** : Yes, he just saw me.

**Sent** : I mean, he saw his phone. Flying.

**Feli** : _lolol_

**Feli** : _I want to see you again._

**Feli** : _Is this better?_

**Sent** : Very much, yes.

**Feli** : _Luddys always getting on me for how I text. Hes too funny_

**Sent** : Shut the fuck up

**Sent** : …Come over between 7am and 6pm. His parents work then.

**Feli** : _Just unlock the door for me. I don’t have classes Monday or Friday :)_

* * *

The following Friday Feliciano woke up early, unlike his usual routine of sleeping in past noon, to see Lovino. When he tried the front door it opened and he was relieved his brother remembered to unlock it. Feliciano was first met with the sight of the staircase and he shuddered. He always hated that staircase. The sight of the slight damaged at the edges made him cringe. He may not remember Lovino alive but he did remember when he was very small and had to watch his grandfather rip the carpeting out of the steps himself.

Lovino floated through the ceiling, dropping down to meet the visitor. He couldn’t help the smile forcing its way to his face. _I can’t believe he’s so big already. He’s all grown up. My little brother… thank God he’s still here._

“I made Antonio stop at the grocery yesterday after school. You liked pasta when you were little, do you still…?”

Feliciano bounced, excited as ever. “Of course I love pasta! What a considerate older brother I have!” He ran off, locating the kitchen by himself.

“Wait, Feli, it’s only nine in the fucking morning! At least have a decent breakfast!”

* * *

Feliciano felt nostalgic to walk the house he had nearly forgotten. He hadn’t been to it since he was about four but everything was coming back to him. The stairs let out an ugly creaking when he cautiously walked up them and found Lovino’s old bedroom. The ghost had already traveled up to it and had all of his old things laid out on the dresser.

“You can take these,” he said, motioning to the array of items that were mostly photographs. “You’d have more use for them than me.”

They sat together on the bed and began to talk and catch up on what Lovino missed since his death. It was hard for him to listen about Nonno’s passing from a heart attack and Feli having to finish high school in a foster home until he could turn eighteen and move on his own. There was a resiliency he saw within his brother that he admired greatly; how this young man lost his entire family but still moved forward and put himself through college. It was amazing that a man with such a tragic past is the happiest and brightest person he’s met (excluding the moron that was Antonio).

“Do they know?” Feliciano finally asked, an uncertain look on his face.

“No,” Lovino admitted. “I didn’t want to tell them… Antonio would be weird about it if he knew how.”

“Why?” Feliciano asked. “Why would he be weird? It doesn’t mean he’ll die the same way if he knows how you died.”

Lovino faded slightly. “If he knew he’ll want to move. He was the first human interaction I’ve had since I died! I couldn’t even talk to anyone at my wake, I didn’t know how to communicate then!”

Feliciano stared at his brother and began to put it together in his head. “You love him. You don’t want him to just _visit_ you, you want to be with him forever.”

Lovino startled. “What the fuck?!”

“I took a few psych classes.”

“You little shit.”

Feliciano laughed. “Ludwig says I’m very perceptive. Besides that, I would be the same. If I was stuck in this house for years I’d latch on to the first person I saw. Then I’d never give them any excuse to leave.”

“I didn’t latch to shit.” Lovino grumbled. “ _He_ asked _me_ out! I’m just letting him live out whatever weird fantasy this is!”

Feliciano rolled his eyes. He thought it would be best not to call out Lovino on his obvious lie and pink face. “Whatever you say, fratello.” The younger brother became quiet and searched his brain for everything he’s ever wanted to know since now he had someone to ask. “Fratello?”

“What?”

“What was it like? Dying?”

Lovino looked at Feliciano with wide eyes. “Why?”

“Weren’t you curious when you were alive? Did it hurt?”

“No. It didn’t. I can’t account for everyone’s death, but mine was weird. It was like this ethereal world I woke up in. I knew something was wrong but I didn’t know what… until I tried to walk and knew my feet weren’t on the floor. And when I looked around there I was, floating, light-headed, looking down at my bloody body on the floor.”


	10. If I Fall

Antonio knew he had royally fucked up as the words left his mouth. It was lunch at the high school and in honor of Valentine’s Day there were pink and red decorations everywhere. The cheerleading team had a booth set up to sell candygrams and flowers to send to your ‘sweetheart’ during class and there were posters all over the halls for the impending dance, themed after famous couples.

Naturally Antonio’s number one fan, a young sophomore named Emma, had come back to him hinting at going together. The poor oblivious senior needed to be kicked under the table by his trusty best friends to catch on. “Oh? OH! I’m so sorry, Emma, but I’m a little… uh, what’s the word…”

“Gay?” Gilbert chimed in.

“Catcher not a pitcher?” Francis added.

“Thank you,” he said sarcastically, face void of his usual laid back expression. “I’m taken.”

Emma stuttered before turning around back to her table of friends with the reddest face they’d ever seen on a girl. Antonio, though glad to have that over with, was now faced with the stern faces of his friends.

“What do you mean you’re taken?” Francis asked as if he were a teacher catching a student cheating on a test.

“Oh, I—I was just saying that!”

“You’ve always been a piss-poor liar,” Gilbert growled. “Please don’t tell me you’re fucking fraternizing with that ghost!”

“He’s more than a ghost!” Antonio shot back, feeling a hint of betrayal at his alleged best friends. “He’s the most sincere, sweetest, honest man I’ve ever met.”

Francis ran his hand through his hair as he usually did when irritated. “Toni, you must understand that we’re thinking of what’s best for you here. You can’t realistically date a _ghost_. You can’t even, well…”

Antonio blushed. “We don’t need to have sex to be together.”

Gilbert angrily smashed his fork into his blob of school food. “What about when you go to college? What about when you meet someone else?”

“You’re being so _ableist_ right now!”

“Stop quoting shit you read on teenagers’ blogs!”

“ _We’re_ teenagers!”

The Spanish teen glared at his friends and stood up, grabbing his tray to throw away before he planned to storm off to the library. Francis reached out and grabbed his shirt.

“Toni, please, listen to us! You’ll be happier with someone who doesn’t have an obituary! Someone you can hold and kiss and grow old with!”

“Is it really so important to you that you fuck everything you see?” Antonio seethed. Francis and Gilbert were surprised at his cursing, which they _rarely_ heard from him. “You know what? I’m done. You can both go fuck yourselves.”

He jerked his shirt from Francis’s grasp and tossed his food away. He had crossed through the library doors when he thought of just how much Lovino had rubbed off on him; being self-assertive and foul-mouthed all at once.

* * *

Lovino wasn’t used to the fiery side of Antonio and the way he stomped while walking and slammed his school bag on the floor before throwing himself on the bed. Antonio remained, facedown, on the mattress, breathing heavily.

“You okay over there?” Lovino asked from his chair.

Antonio mumbled something through the blankets before lifting his head. “I got in a fight with the guys today. I said some pretty mean things.”

“Like?”

“I told them to go fuck themselves.”

“Nice.”

Antonio looked at his boyfriend with desperate eyes. “Not nice! I don’t swear and I swore at _them_!”

“If I recall you swore a few times asking me out. Creep.”

“I’m a passionate man, Lovi.”

Lovino lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “What exactly did you fight about?”

A few deep breathes later Antonio finally admitted, “You… I accidentally said we were together and they flipped out. Gil was mad but Franny seemed like some mom trying to make me into her.”

“That makes no sense.”

“He told me I shouldn’t date a ghost because… well, I guess the same reasons you gave me… plus the no sex.”

Lovino snorted. “I see how that can be an issue for you sluts.” Antonio laughed and looked at his boyfriend in awe. Somehow he felt a lot better about what had happened. “Hey, idiot. Don’t feel bad about one fight. You can’t let yourself waste your life being unhappy.”

Oh. That’s why. Lovino was surprisingly understanding for his personality. The way he made Antonio feel calm and relaxed was a plus, along with the way he made him feel alive and complete. Suddenly he heard eardrum-shattering, shrill beeps from the lower level of the house.

Lovino startled and looked around. “What the fuck is that?”

Antonio hopped from his bed and made sure his phone was in his pocket before he went to investigate. “Sounds like the gas alarm.”

Lovino paled. “Gas alarm?”

“Yeah, mom insisted on buying a few when we found out this house has gas ovens instead of electric. There’s probably a gas leak.”

Antonio opened his bedroom door and stopped to smell the air. There was nothing new but he passed that off as the gas not reaching them yet. Lovino threw himself in front of Antonio when the Spaniard rushed to the stairs.

“Jesus, Antonio! Stop for a minute!”

“Why? I need to at least leave the house before I suffocate,” he joked. He regretted it when he saw the blues in Lovino and the serious expression on his face.

“Don’t. Run.”

Antonio nodded and walked slowly, gently, to the steps. Lovino was watching him like a hawk and Antonio was beginning to understand the panic. The sulfur smell of the landing was disgusting and he immediately opened the front door and hopped around the house to open windows. Lovino left him to check the oven and, low and behold, the knob wasn’t turned all the way.

_I fucking knew this goddamn piece of shit was out to get me._

He turned it all the way off, even forcing it to be sure it was in place. Then he slid the knobs off and left only the pieces of metal sticking out. The pieces of hard plastic were left on the counter and he flew off to open more windows. When he finished he saw Antonio waiting on the front lawn, making a call.

Antonio had called his father, who urged him not to call the police about it. _“Just air the house out and stay away until I get home. Don’t waste resources!”_ There was no way Antonio was just going to abandon his home, vulnerable as ever, so he retreated to the backyard to wait on the swing. Lovino joined him later when the beeping had stopped and every door and window had been opened.

The ghost took the form of a seated man, floating next to Antonio like a magic show performance. “That was awful.”

“Very much. Thanks for helping me with the leak.”

“Anytime,” Lovino breathed. “I think it’s time I told you…”

This was it, this was the moment Antonio had been dying for since he first encountered the supernatural being! Lovino had composed himself, ready to go on in full detail, only stopped by the honking of a car horn.

Henrique came running around the side of the house and waved around. Antonio looked to his side to find Lovino had already gone invisible. “Henrique! You’re home!”

The elder teen came to him and grabbed his arm. “What the hell are you still doing here? Dad called me _half an hour ago_ and asked to check if it still smelled. And I come driving down the road to see you messing around on the swing?”

Antonio craned his neck and grimaced. There was just enough of a gap between their and their neighbor’s house to see the yard from the street. “I was just keeping an eye on it, make sure nobody robbed us.”

“Your fucking ‘ghost’ buddy can do that, we need to leave!”

_More like ghost brother-in-law, you bastard. Your brother is **mine** now._

Antonio shot back an apologetic look where he thought Lovino was as he was ushered away and out of the yard. He was so close to finding out!

* * *

The Carriedos had returned home later that night with take-out food and a receipt for an electric oven to be installed the following week. Henrique stayed around to catch up but excuse himself with a lie about needing to study for an important test for Sociology; a class he didn’t take but sounded good enough to fool his parents. Antonio was relieved to return to his bedroom to find Lovino was waiting there for him.

“My parents are replacing the oven.”

“It’s about time that piece of trash was reunited with its home at the dump. Speaking of trash, how are your bastard friends?”

“They called me after Henrique kidnapped me but I wasn’t in the mood to talk.”

Lovino nodded and they entered a silence. Antonio changed his clothes and was disappointed that Lovino wasn’t even trying to sneak a peek. He settled in on his bed, tired from the day, surrounded in his soft blankets. Lovino settled in next to him, his form emanating coldness, making Antonio thankful for his mountain of covers.

“Do you still want to know?”

A nod from the curly head of the Spaniard was all he needed.

“Alright… how much do you want to know?”

“Everything. I want to know everything there is to know about you, Lovi.”

* * *

“Nonno was a powerful man when he was alive. He was a politician or something, I don’t know, it was boring. He owned some land and he had a lot of money from his family. We all lived in Italy back then, in the seventies. For some reason my parents and Nonno thought America would be a nice change of scenery, and we moved here when I was very young. I think I was five or something.

“Nonno was very popular despite being foreign and he had a way with women. I grew up here but I kept my accent and was pretty popular with girls when I was in school. When I was in my last year of high school my mom became pregnant again and none of us expected it, especially at her age. I admit, I didn’t like the idea of a brother nineteen years younger than me. I hated to think he’d get all the attention when I was supposed to be in the spotlight, graduating and going to college.

“My father died a few months before Feli was born. I think it was January. It hit our family pretty hard and my mother was depressed for a while. The doctors already told us she was high risk at her age and it was a miracle Feli wasn’t miscarried.

“She was already having her C-section when we got there and she died on the table. The last time I saw her was that morning before I left for school. The last thing she told me was she loved me and to have a good day… It was the worst day of my life. I gained a brother and lost my mother all on my birthday. My nineteenth birthday.

“Nonno took care of Feli after that. I couldn’t stand the house I lost my parents in so we sold it and Nonno bought me my own place. He lived with me at first and Feli has a nursery set up where you put the sitting room. After a year he moved back out, saying he wanted me to feel independent and to have my own place since I was an adult in college.

“For a couple years he would randomly stop by to visit with Feli. We’d take pictures and do weird family things because we wanted to be as normal as we could for him. Of course I had to go fuck that up when he was barely three-years-old.

“I was in my last year of college, as cruel as that was. It was just turning spring and I was pretty happy to be done with all the goddamn cold weather. I wouldn’t graduate until the late summer—I took a semester off to take care of Feli when Nonno was visiting family back in Rome.

“I woke up and felt like I was going to get sick. I wasn’t hungover, I remember not having enough money to buy anything but some bread to stall my hunger. I hated asking Nonno for handouts but I really should have…

“When I got out of bed I almost fell over, I was so dizzy and I was trying not to throw up. It was so early in the morning that the sky was still black. I blacked out a little when I got to the door and I had to wait a few minutes to let it pass, but it never passed. The air was so thick and it smelled so retched I wanted to just run outside and _breathe_ again.

“It took me a while to realize it was a gas leak. I guess I was tired or too fucked up already to see it sooner. I knew I needed to go outside and get away from it and I tried, I did… but the fucking carpet on the stairs had always been a problem. The fucking carpenters didn’t staple it down right or it was displaced at some point, I don’t know… but there was a bump in it at the top of the stairs. And I was so dizzy and I could hardly see anything by then.

“I rushed to the stairs and I tried to grab the railing but I missed. The last thing I remember was my toe catching on that goddamn rug and a rush of air on my face…

“When I woke up everything was different. Everything looked blurry and I was on laying on the ground. I didn’t know what had happened and I got up and I felt something _pulling_ me up, like I was underwater and being moved around by a current. I barely registered that I was floating and I felt so numb that it didn’t shock me as much as it should have when I saw my body.

“I was just there, at the bottom of the stairs. I guess I fell head-first. My jaw was scratched pretty bad and my neck was twisted in a way I’ve never seen before. There was blood pooled around my head and I couldn’t tell what killed me, the broken neck or the head injury. My body was slumped on the stairs still. I tried to touch it but I went straight through.

“Later that day my friend, Toris, came by to pick me up for classes. He was my ride to school and we were best friends since grade school. He knocked for a while and he saw my body through the window since I didn’t have curtains.

“I’ll never forget the way he wailed and fell to his knees. I tried to talk to him and tell him I was still here but he couldn’t see me or hear me. Months later I learned I was invisible to people and finally learned how to be seen, not that it mattered. It was too late then.

“They held the wake at my house and that was the last time I saw most of my friends. I heard my Nonno on the phone when he was cleaning up my things a year later that Toris had a breakdown and threw himself off the roof of the science building on campus. _I_ fucked up and fell and Toris killed himself because of it.

“I remember hearing Nonno tearing the carpet out of the stairs. He wanted to take that damned oven out but couldn’t handle coming back to the house his grandson died in. I spent my time in my room. Eventually I learned how to move things and I finally organized all the photos Nonno left in my drawer. The album was only half-finished when he left it.

“Since I died I spent my time trying to leave but I couldn’t get much farther than the back swing or the front porch. When I got to the limit I felt sick again, like the morning I died. I was too weak to move forward. So I retreated to my house and just watched the world outside. I had to have read our old bible a thousand times trying to find a way to pass on and go to Heaven or wherever you go to when you die. I wanted to see Toris and Mom and Dad. I want to see Nonno. I never figured it out…

“Then you came and you had to work your way into my afterlife. And you brought Feli to me. And you brought me people I could talk to and be _human_ with. And you just _had_ to make me thankful to be here for once.”


	11. Try

The story left Antonio feeling dizzy and almost sick. “I… I made you thankful to exist?”

“Yeah,” Lovino admitted. “I wasn’t doing anything or feeling anything for years. Then you showed up and it changed. Maybe _I_ changed.”

The teen nodded numbly. He wanted to know about the cause of Lovino’s death but he didn’t anticipate how horrible he would feel afterward. It was like he had to experience it himself. He couldn’t imagine the pain Lovino’s family and friends went through… surely it had to be immense, Lovino was his everything. How could it not hurt like nothing before?

“You’re not going to die like that,” Lovino stated as if it were already fact. “You’re not going to suffer or hurt your family and you’re not going before your time, got it? You’ll live until you die of old age or some shit.”

“Y-yeah, okay.”

The ghost felt like he had a weight lifted from his mind to finally say it, though he saw how the weight wasn’t removed but transferred to his sensitive boyfriend. “Hey, Toni. Go call your friends and make up.”

“But, Lovi—”

“No buts. Go make up and be idiots together. I already told you not to waste your life being unhappy. Now go talk to them, damn it.”

Antonio stared through Lovino for a while before he nodded and took his phone out. He still wasn’t ready to talk to his friends despite his guilt over the fight, but he wasn’t about to disobey the orders. It wasn’t that he was doing what Lovino said because he was told to, but because he knew the ghost was right. Lovino died out of the blue and anyone is liable of dying any day, any time. There was no point in prolonging a petty fight with best friends when they can be gone one day. Unlike Lovino, they may never return.

* * *

**GROUP MESSAGE**

_ **You started a GROUP MESSAGE with Franny, Gil** _

**Sent** : Can we talk??

 **Sent** : I’m sorry. Lovi talked sense into me.

 **Gil** : _Lovi?? Really, ur taking advice from beyond the grave now_

 **Gil** : _Instead of ur friends_

 **Franny** : _Be civil. He’s apologizing, don’t be a dick!_

 **Sent** : Look. Lovi told me how he died and its put things in perspective.

 **Sent** : Any of us can die suddenly like he did. I don’t want to be in a fight with my besties and die mad :’(

 **Gil** : _…_

 **Gil** : _Casper said that? The guy we insulted is being nice to us now?_

 **Franny** : _I don’t like fighting with you either, Toni_

 **Gil** : _You can’t date a ghost_

 **Franny** : _Get off it, Gil. Just let this be_

 **Sent** : Hey, fuckers. Guess who.

 **Gil** : _Not funny Toni_

 **Sent** : ‘Toni’ left to get water. Now you little shits listen to me and listen good

 **Sent** : Antonio was upset when he came home. He hated that he got mad at you for some reason

 **Sent** : He didn’t tell anyone because he knew you’d flip your fucking shit

 **Sent** : Let him be happy. I don’t expect this to last forever, just until he meets someone better. So let him have this. Please.

* * *

Gilbert stared at his phone incredulously. Was this seriously the ghost texting him? Either way, ghost or not, it seemed to have a point. At least _one_ of them understood that this wasn’t a permanent deal, this was just for the fleeting happiness and honeymoon phase dating brought. Gilbert was hardheaded when it came to his friends but he didn’t want to see Antonio upset (if what the ghost said was true).

* * *

 **Gil** : _Prove ur the ghost._

 **Sent** : Space Jam came out in 1996. I know because I died before it did and Toni forced me to watch that abomination last week when he was a little too tired and got weird

 **Franny** : _wtf_

 **Gil** : _That wasn’t expected_

 **Franny** : _Really now, that’s your proof?_

 **Franny** : _Hello?_

* * *

“Lovi! Why were you texting them?” Antonio scrolled through the conversation, pausing to read the messages.

“Why not?”

The Spaniard wanted to be mad but he couldn’t; Lovino was trying to help and it seemed like, just maybe, he did. Lovino was acting nonchalant but still made glances to see Antonio’s reaction.

* * *

 **Sent** : Sorry, Lovi took my phone

 **Gil** : _We saw_

 **Franny** : _You still own Space Jam?_

 **Sent** : I love Space Jam

 **Gil** : _That’s humility if I ever saw it_

 **Gil** : _Fights over_

 **Gil** : _lets get some waffle house_

 **Sent** : :D

* * *

They may not have agreed on everything but they couldn’t stand not speaking. The friends, whenever caught in a fight, would find the smallest, most ridiculous things to try to use as an excuse to make up and be on good terms again. It was an awkward thing, being ‘mad,’ which they didn’t have much experience in.

Gilbert did end up picking up Antonio and Francis and took them to Waffle House in his old, beat-up car that he shared with Ludwig. They ate together and talked and tried to relate to the weird new situations arising. As a sign of faith, Francis began to ask about how it works out, dating a ghost. Gilbert held his tongue when it got too much for him but occasionally interrupted with inappropriate questions.

“So can he take his ghost clothes off?”

“No.”

“Does he try to take your clothes off?”

“He likes to watch when I do it. We take baths a lot, but that’s because he’s bored and likes to play with the bubbles.”

Gilbert blushed and Francis giggled like a schoolgirl. “Is that why you only asked for bubble bath for your birthday?”

“I happen to enjoy bubbles in my bath,” Antonio mumbled.

Something clicked in Gilbert’s mind and he leaned across the table, getting uncomfortable close to Antonio’s face. In a hushed voice, he said, “I’m going to buy you a dildo.”

“W-what?!” Antonio nearly choked on his chocolate milk. “What—why—”

Francis was holding a hand to his mouth and Gilbert winked. “He can’t touch you, right? But he can move shit, _right_? So if I got you a dildo, he can grab it and shove it in your—”

“PLEASE, SIR,” a woman from a nearby table screeched. “My kids are here!”

Gilbert hadn’t realized how loudly he was talking. Whoops. “Sorry, kids. Google dildos if you have questions your mom won’t answer.”

Antonio and Francis hung their heads low and asked God why he allowed Gilbert this much abused free will. They hoped more than anything that they could pay their bill and haul ass out to the car and avoid any more of Gilbert’s embarrassing shenanigans.

* * *

Lovino didn’t like what he was hearing. Antonio was still out with his friends and, unfortunately, his parents were home. He was a master at eavesdropping but wished he didn’t hear _this_. This was unsettling.

“Maybe he’s stressed,” Mrs. Carriedo reasoned. They were at the kitchen table and the patriarch of the family looked stiffer and angrier than usual.

“He’s not fucking stressed, he’s delusional,” Mr. Carriedo snapped. “Haven’t you noticed the change in him? He’s not fucking around with his hooligan friends as much, but that’s because he’s locked up in his room every day! He quit the soccer team so his scholarship is _ruined_! I hear that little nut talking to himself, Marie. He’s always laughing and talking when he’s alone.”

“He’s probably on the phone.”

“In the bath, Marie? Now he’s being a little _faggot_ , taking baths while talking to those _boys_?”

Lovino cringed at the slur. He had little contact with the gruff older man but he felt a stabbing new empathy for Antonio to have to deal with having _that_ as a father.

“His grades are slipping and he’s losing his marbles. This move was a bad idea,” the man growled. “The other house hasn’t sold yet, I think we need to just move back.”

“We can’t just leave, we’ve settled in—”

Mr. Carriedo slapped a glass of water off the table. It flew through Lovino and smashed into the wall behind him. “Settled into what, Marie? Insanity? Antonio used to say there was a ghost here and now he’s talking to the walls! We never should have taken him off that ADD medicine!”

_Is he serious? ADD meds, insanity? Toni’s not crazy! He’s talking to… shit. He’s talking to me. Fuck, fuck, **fuck**!_

“We’re moving and that’s final. As soon as he’s graduated we’re out of this fucking house.”

* * *

It wasn’t in Lovino’s nature to care about other people or to do anything far out of his way for them. The only times he acted like he truly cared was during the series of deaths in his family when it became necessary to show love when everyone was ravaged with distress. Now Lovino was floating around his bedroom, trying to remember which of Antonio’s cords plugged into the laptop.

The thick, black charger was found and plugged in. Antonio’s laptop was only a few years old but well damaged, including a battery that barely holds a charge and dies in under an hour when ‘fully charged.’ Lovino was feeling panicked, another emotion he wasn’t used to feeling in such intensity since his death. On the dresser, next to a pile of DVDs, was Antonio’s acceptance letter to the local university. Lovino skimmed it and recognized the insignia at the top as the college he attended in life as well.

The laptop brightened and chimed, Lovino diving to smack the volume buttons in fear of Mr. Carriedo hearing it. A few minutes later the internet browser was up and Lovino was frantically trying to word his worries and thoughts. He knew his— _Antonio’s_ —college would have dorms to live in, but Antonio never talked about dorming! He said he would save money living at home but that’s obviously not a choice… unless Antonio decides to move out and break up with Lovino.  
Antonio wouldn’t do that to him… would he?

_Don’t be stupid… it’s college. Of course he’ll want to leave you behind. He’ll go to college with his idiot friends and make more idiot friends and find some new bastard to fall in love with… and he’ll forget about me like everyone else did…_

Lovino shook his head, a habit from life that had no effect on him anymore. He did his best to clear his head and began to search anything he could to try to ease his worry. Unfortunately, all he found were blogs and sites that only instilled more fear. In some cases adults _can_ be committed to psych wards and parents have no obligation to help pay for college. Some people were adamant ghosts do exist and haunt their homes, then others argue that seeing ghosts is a sign of mental illness. Besides that, Antonio already lost one scholarship and could easily lose any others he had. Him quitting the soccer team for no reason was even worse. If he had quit due to obligation or injury it wouldn’t look nearly as bad.

_Even if Antonio finds a way out… he’s screwed. He has no money for college (why the fuck is college so expensive? I thought I had it bad)… he doesn’t have a job and half of these places won’t hire someone with no experience… Idiot just had to spend his free time playing soccer instead of working like a normal person. There’s no way he can still live here or convince his parents to stay… unless he stopped talking to me… God damn it. Even when I’m dead I’m fucking up peoples’ lives. I’m sorry, Antonio. You’d be better off if I was gone._

Lovino startled when he heard a happy chime from the laptop. “What the fuck?” He clicked around and found the Facebook tab open. He had a habit of accidentally opening Antonio’s bookmarked pages—the damn buttons were a little too easy to touch.

Open was Antonio’s profile. On the top of the screen Lovino saw the red alert on the speech bubble icons. _This can’t be too hard to figure out, I just—oh, I got it! Fuck yeah_. The ghost cheered for himself, having figured out the chat feature without a single living persons’ help.

There was a message from Gilbert. Gross.

* * *

 **Gilbert** : _Hey, it’s me, Lovi :) I saw you were online, lol_

 **Gilbert** : _It’s Toni._

 **Sent** : I see that. When are you coming home? I need to talk to you about something important.

 **Gilbert** : _I’m actually staying at Gil’s tonight. We all want to make up for the fight_

 **Sent** : Toni, I’m not fucking around.

 **Gilbert** : _Calm down Lovi. I’ll be home tomorrow. We can talk then_

_**Gilbert is offline.** _

* * *

_I’m going to fucking kill that idiot and drag him to hell with me._ Lovino growled to himself and shut down the laptop. _His idiot ass sure as shit won’t be doing anything to remedy this other than smile and say ‘it’ll all work out.’ Fucking jerk bastard!_

That was when Lovino resolved to at least fix the problem of tuition. There were still a few scholarships open for application. There were a few things Lovino knew: Antonio had okay grades, a killer body, and he was Spanish. _He’s gay… isn’t he? He’s dating me, so I’ll round up to gay. He isn’t brown… but he isn’t that white. Fuck it, Antonio is going to be a minority on these applications._

Lovino scrolled through a webpage and took note of all the open scholarships he knew he could bullshit essays for in a night. Hispanic Minority papers, How Being LGBTQ+ Has Affected My Life, essays on essays about how sports enriched his high school experience…

_Fuck you, Antonio. You’re about to get a stack of fucking acceptance letters and government assistance, you piece of shit. You can thank your dead-sexy boyfriend later._


	12. All the Wounds

Lovino was seething with rage and bursting with worry. He felt a sickness within that he hadn’t experienced since his death day that was rolling around and turning to red hot anger between hiccups. He was about to lose Antonio and everything that came with him: the present, the future, the fuzzy feelings that he hadn’t felt even in life, and most importantly, the _summer_. He wasn’t ready to give up this love he was cast into… but who ever heard of the living and the dead being happy together? Antonio was the beginning and Lovino was past the end. It was foolish to trick himself into believing that happy-go-lucky high school senior and give into the idea that Disney dreams and fairytales could ever happen.

The school year was ending and Lovino wanted to complete any unfinalized college forms to free up time for Antonio, who was still ignorant of the help. He wanted the teen to be happy while he could be, even giving in to cuddling (though the constant effort he put in to keep jackets or blankets over his form drained him quickly and sent him into light-headed sickness).

Antonio had been busy that weekend with catching up with friends, leaving Lovino to stalk around the house and listen in as the Carriedos spoke about how they would handle this situation. For weeks he had been floating around the house in deep worry. Mr. and Mrs. Carriedo had been excellent at hiding their plans while Antonio was home and Lovino couldn’t bring himself to tell him.

Feliciano came to visit again on a Monday with a frown etched deep on his face. Lovino was typing away at a laptop that he still struggled to use ( _what the hell is this fucking symbol supposed to mean? Why does this piece of shit need ‘stairs?’_ ), messy piles of paper surrounding him. There were random yearbooks floating around the transparent man, all flipped to pages with Antonio’s face on them—either club photographs or sports spreads of him playing soccer. The ghost was using everything at his disposal to fake being Antonio.

“Fratello, what are you doing?”

Lovino continued to type away, his body undefined from the hours of multitasking wearing him down. “I’m getting Antonio a shit ton of money for college.”

This news added a new worry to Feliciano’s mind. “Lovi, why? I thought you liked Toni being here with you? If he’s at college…”

“I know,” Lovino said softly.

“I saw the ‘For Sale’ sign in the yard. What happened, fratello? Is something wrong with Toni’s family? Are they broke?”

Lovino scoffed and finished his fourth essay of the day. “No, they’re just bastards.” He shut the laptop and hovered next to his brother, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with essays in his hands. “Don’t read that.”

“Why not?” Feliciano questioned. “I like your writing.”

“I died before you even learned how to read, you little shit.”

The living brother giggled and set the paper back onto the pile to avoid getting Lovino riled up. He already looked so stressed, barely visible with smoky bursts of white and swampy greens. Lovino sat with him and copied his brother, trying his best to act like the living.

“His parents are trying to sell the house again. If they can’t, Mr. Carriedo said he’d just send Antonio away to live with family out of state. If they can, they’ll be moving back to their old house… Mr. C-Carriedo said he might… tear down the house…”

“What?!” Feliciano cried. The papers surrounding them flew away from the young man’s frantic movements. “He can’t! He won’t! He—no! You live here, he can’t do that! What’ll happen to you?”

Lovino stared through his brother. “I don’t know. The fucker said no one would want this house so it might as well go down. I heard him on the phone, I think talking to developers. They want to tear down all these old houses and rebuild. They want to replace my Gothic death house with a fucking mini-mansion or a park!”

“But why?” Feliciano whined. He was about to burst into tears and he shivered when he reached out to touch Lovino’s airy form. “Why would they do that? They just moved in, didn’t they? They used to like it, they can’t…”

There was a pregnant pause before Lovino admitted the truth. “They think Antonio’s disturbed or something. They heard him talking to me and they think this house is fucking with him… b-because he used to tell his family it was haunted… and now he’s talking to himself… It’s my fault. They don’t know I’m here. They know I died here—that’s why Mr. Carriedo was so mad about no one buying the house, because no one wants a house someone died in.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is. It always is.”

* * *

The sign had been placed in the yard after Antonio left for school. His parents would be home from work early to speak with him about his options, to tell him the new changes.

As usual, Antonio was his normal, lighthearted self at the lunch table. The ghostly relationship still bothered Gilbert but they agreed to put their differences aside when it came to such controversial issues. They were all excited that day—their cap and gowns had arrived! Next to their trays of food were neatly packaged bags with black gowns and blue trim with their hats and blue-and-white tassels. Antonio fawned over how much their school colors made him think of Lovino, his sweet little blue-and-white ghost.

Random freshmen would stop by their table to ogle the coveted gowns and the general life of a high school senior. Their senior trip would be the week of their graduation, this year planned for a trip to the nice waterpark that was an hour away by bus. Antonio was spending his free time scheming how he could sneak away to send pictures or make calls to Lovino. Hopefully his parents would be away so he could call the house phone!

“This trip is going to kill me,” Gilbert groaned. “I need to start putting on sunscreen _now_.”

Francis flipped his hair and poked the silver-haired teen in the cheek. “You know, Gil, albinism is a valid reason to stay at home. You don’t have to go.”

“Fuck you, normy, I’m going! My milkshake brings all the boys!”

“You’re going to get skin cancer!”

“Nuh uh! The awesome me is immune!”

“Immune to cancer? Are you serious, Gil?”

Something mischievous sparkled within the raspberry eyes of Gilbert. “Hey, Toni,” he called. There was a mean streak within him he just had to expose; Antonio had been a little too happy lately. Besides that, he needed to see just how out of it the tanned teen was. “Did you ever find out how your precious boyfriend died?”

“Gil!” Francis smacked him on the arm. “Are you kidding? We agreed not to—”

“He broke his neck falling down the stairs,” Antonio replied, voice still carefree. “He’s too cute!”

Gilbert and Francis sat in shock. Antonio really _was_ in a great mood.

“Toni? Why so happy?” Gilbert asked. “That should have pissed you off.”

The Spanish teen smiled and opened his eyes from the daydream he seemed perpetually caught in. “Things are just good! Lovi and I are connecting like you see in movies, I got a call yesterday that I apparently qualify for a state grant, and Henrique said he’d carpool with me next year so I can keep saving money for when _I_ get a car! I didn’t tell Lovi but I’ve been doing a lot of supernatural studying and I think I can get him to move to a new house to haunt! I can actually move out with my boyfriend and go to school and be an adult! And we’re about to graduate! It’s so exciting!”

The friends couldn’t help but feel the infectious joy Antonio was radiating. Things really were looking up, weren’t they?

* * *

Lovino was flooded with deep purples and greens; Antonio would be home soon and he didn’t know how to deal with the inevitable. The Carriedos had come back early—thank God it wasn’t before Feliciano could leave—with Henrique as well. Henrique, the guy who was never home! This wasn’t good at all.

Downstairs he could hear the three speaking rather loudly, not realizing there was another person there to listen in. They sounded so harsh and judgmental, like they truly believed Antonio had some serious mental illness. A month ago it was ‘ADHD’ and now it’s blown up to insanity! Henrique sounded weary, having seen Lovino before, but kept it to himself. The bastard actually wanted to move out and didn’t care in the slightest what the reasoning was.

The yellow school bus passed by the street and Lovino felt numb as he watched from Henrique’s bedroom window. Antonio approached the house and looked confused to see the cars in the driveway. Lovino quickly became invisible and let himself fall through the floor and glided to the front yard, right on the porch.

“Toni!” He whispered out, dazed from the rushes of movement.

“Lovi?” Antonio turned his head, ready to follow the voice.

“Hey, stop! Pretend I’m not here!” Antonio frowned and looked forward again. “Look, some shit is about to go down, but don’t panic, okay? I’m still here. I’ll always be here, okay? Just be cool, Toni.”

Antonio felt pangs of fear inside him. This had to be bad if his entire family was home early and his ghost boyfriend was warning him to be calm. He turned his head and finally noticed the sign on the lawn. There was an iciness encircling his hand and he took a deep breath, putting his brave face on before entering the front door of his house.

His family waited for him in the kitchen. They had stern looks on their faces, though it was obvious it was only his father who truly felt it. Antonio set his school bag down and sat his wrapped gown on the kitchen table.

“Are we moving again?” He asked in a small voice.

“Yes,” his mother said in the same tone. “We are, honey.”

“Why?”

Henrique chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Because you’re nuts.”

Their mother smacked the college student on the back of the head and hissed his name, obviously not in the mood for his nonsense on top of this already terrible moment.

His father seemed annoyed that this intervention of sorts wasn’t going as fast as he wanted, opting to take control. “This house was a mistake. It’s done nothing but cost us money and send you into some fucking crazy spell! All you do is stay in your room and talk to the fucking wall! And I found a Ouija board in the trash—are you a goddamn Satanist now? We didn’t raise a heathen, we raised a good Catholic boy!”

“Oh my god,” Antonio mumbled under his breath. The coldness on his hand was now moving across his back. “You think this house made me crazy… so we’re moving?”

“Yes,” his mother repeated, back to being uncomfortable and upset with how her husband acted.

“But I’m not crazy, I’m talking to the ghost! He moves things and he’s _here!”_

_Oh no. NO, NO, NO! DAMN IT, ANTONIO! When I said to be cool I meant not to fucking make yourself look worse! Don’t tell them about me! They won’t believe you!_

Henrique made a show of sighing dramatically. “You’re just romanticizing the guy who died here to not be so scared of the house. It’s a classic sign of mental illness to attach yourself to a fantasy, it’s textbook psychology.”

“I’m not crazy! You _saw_ him!”

“I saw a shadow,” Henrique corrected. “You know the dead guy’s name, you probably just found his old stuff and made up an imaginary friend… it’s just not healthy at your age to have one.”

“Lovi isn’t an imaginary friend, he’s _real_ and he’s the most genuine person I’ve ever met!”

The Carriedos looked unsettled by the adamant behavior. Lovino internally cursed the brotherly rivalry and teasing that was making Antonio lose his wits.

“I googled it when we moved in, too,” Henrique tried to reason. “ _Lovino Romano Vargas_ , Italian immigrant, fell down the stairs. Cracked his skull and bruised his brain to hell. I know tragic deaths are cool and all but you need to get over it. The report said he tripped on carpet, and the carpet was removed. Are you freaking out because you think you’ll trip like he did? He was an idiot, you won’t—”

The lights flickered. Lovino didn’t like being mocked so openly but he sure as hell wasn’t going to allow this jerk to keep talking to get Antonio worked up. It was a nice little reminder to Henrique that he was around and he knew what was happening.

Antonio inhaled sharply. “Are we done here? I have to see if my gown fits.”

His mother nodded and he grabbed his things before storming away and up the stairs. Lovino remained in the kitchen, ready to listen in on whatever else they had to say. It was quiet but the family confirmed the need to move and get Antonio far, _far_ away from here.

Deep down, Lovino knew this was all his fault.


	13. All Alone

“Someone looks handsome in his gown.”

“Is it me?”

Antonio was dressed up in his cap and gown, walking around the house to get a good feel of it. Lovino had been following him and watching him, loving how amused the living was with his new little outfit and special hat. Graduation wasn’t for another few weeks but he was beyond thrilled to experience being a graduate.

Along with graduation came worse news—it could be any time that summer that they would leave, but Antonio didn’t let it bring him down. Instead he spent time speaking with Feliciano and scheming ways to still visit and prevent the destruction of the home.

Lovino found that he didn’t much mind the possibility of losing his home. He already found his love and reunited with his brother and had nothing left to lose. Feliciano wouldn’t have to live wondering about his brother or family, which he was the sole survivor for. Antonio would take this experience and grow from it and possibly live a more spiritual life knowing what could be.

The pain, however, remained. Lovino didn’t want to lose these things but he made peace with it.

“Hey, Lovi, try these on,” Antonio requested. “I want to see you in graduation robes!”

The ghost huffed and crossed his arms. “I’m twenty-two years old, goddamn it! I don’t wear high school gowns!”

“You should be forty, so you can pretend to be the principal giving a speech!”

The bruise left on Antonio’s forehead from the book Lovino threw wouldn’t leave a mark, but would hurt considerably every time the air-headed teen touched it to check if it was still there. In the end, Lovino felt guilty for his act of poltergeist antics and relented into wearing the damnable outfit. Antonio took enough pictures of the scene to receive a warning from his phone’s internal memory.

That phone was covered in Lovino, whether it be text messages the ghost sent that Antonio saved or photographs of the apparition or of his yearbook pictures. It was scary to any outsider—such an obsession with the previous occupant of the home. To Antonio, it was normal teenage over-the-top behavior. He did that with whoever he was involved with—changing the background to them, at least.

Under Antonio’s bed, with his shoes and forgotten binders of homework, was a secret photo album, filled completely with Lovino’s loose pictures and new printed ones on glossy paper of the glowing Italian. Antonio never wanted to have to rely on that to see his boyfriend, another reason he was trying so hard to keep this going.

Anyone who saw the photographs would assume it to be some Photoshop shenanigans, unless they knew that the man in the image was dead. Feliciano was the only person who would know, other than Antonio and his best friends, and the happy Italian only cooed how much he loved the images.

“Okay, I’m done with this shit,” Lovino grunted. He became misty and the clothes fell through him and into a pile on the floor. “Don’t you have finals to study for?”

“Only AP Spanish and English,” the teen sang. “And I’m fluent in both already!”

Lovino groaned loudly, accidentally echoing it out in deep layers like when he used to scare idiots away from his house on Halloween nights. For years after his passing, the local teens would sneak to his house after the story of his death hit the news. Middle and high school students would jimmy the door or force open a window and sneak in, telling ghost stories at the foot of the stairs. They’d tell their own versions of how Lovino died, some changing him to ‘Old Man Vargas’ or the death itself into a murder. Lovino would listen, bored out of his mind, and wait to scare the kids away.

He never waited for the actual jump scare at the end of a story. That was predictable and boring. No, instead he would start moaning and knocking over whatever his nonno hadn’t taken with him. New groups would come to debunk the stories only for Lovino to find new ways to fuck with them. When actual adults and concerned parents came by, he simply set up string and forgotten silverware as a fake answer.

Lovino blinked away the memory and watched Antonio collect his clothes before flashing him a smile and heading to their room. He didn’t follow the boy, instead choosing to float through the house to check for any unwanted family. He knew Antonio was up to something, trying to scheme ways to stay or come back.

_Maybe it’s time._

* * *

It was obvious that Antonio had no real intentions on studying. He had plenty of book open on his bed, notebooks scattered the floor, binders were stacked or open on the dresser. He had two finals to prepare for, yet made a scene of his ‘studying’ with every school item he still had. Lovino swore he saw an old pre-algebra workbook dated at least four years prior in Sharpie.

“Toni, why?” he deadpanned, scanning his wrecked room. “It wasn’t this messy the entire time I fucking lived here.”

Antonio looked up from his phone, ignoring the candy-based game he was wasting time on. “Mama and Papa want me to study even though I don’t need to, so…”

“So you’re being a jackass.”

“So I’m trying to make it look like I’m trying!”

“But you’re not actually trying.”

Antonio pouted and moved a few books to the side, patting the space next to him. Lovino stared at him blankly and joined him. He felt empty and like he did before, in all those years he spent alone. He had everything in the world but the idea of giving it up was enough to turn his normally blue self into a misty and foggy white apparition.

“Lovi, what’s wrong? Are you really that upset over me not studying?”

The Italian sighed. “No, you idiot. But you really should if you want to get into a good college. Transcripts are important and teenagers are notoriously stupid.”

Antonio stared through Lovino, slowly figuring him out. “I wouldn’t say that,” he said quietly. Lovino turned to him, unaware of how well his mood showed and how Antonio may be the only person who could decipher every tone and hue to him.

Lovino wanted to just disappear and continue the rest of his existence in silence. He wanted to go back to the way it was before, before he could remember what being happy was and how good it felt to have a best friend and a love. He wanted the numb repetition and the lack of hope or worry. He wanted to just be a ghost.

That stupid damn Antonio just had to make him feel alive.

“Is it me?” the teen asked, voice steady and clear. Lovino didn’t move, but Antonio knew what he was saying. “Is it because I have to leave?”

Lovino turned his head, entranced by the serious expression on the other boy. There was no smirk or crinkled eyes, no concealed laughter or amusement.

“Is this about everything you said when we got together?”

Lovino was quiet, only speaking up when it was apparent Antonio wasn’t going to keep the conversation one-sided. “I told you it was only going to be harder this way.”

“Harder? That was if we broke up… Lovi… are you..?” Antonio trailed off and his expression fell. There was a hardness in his throat and an ache in his stomach. “Why?”

Lovino exhaled, for show rather than any need to breathe. “You’re leaving soon. You’re going to college. You’re almost an adult.”

“I’m eighteen.”

“You’re a _kid_ ,” Lovino snapped. “And _I_ was a kid. And your friends are, too. You need to stop living in this fucking fantasy that this could possibly work out in the long-run. We had our fun but it’s time to get over all of this.”

The bed shifted and Antonio got close to the ghost’s face. There was a defiance in his eyes. “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?!”

Antonio put on a shit-eating grin. “I mean no. I mean I’m not letting you end this because it’ll be a little hard.”

“You little shit, you said I could end this whenever I wanted,” Lovino retorted, confused why he wasn’t mad like he knew he should be. There was almost a relief within him.

“I know. And you can… just do me one favor first.”

Lovino watched him curiously, wondering how he could break up with the moron without resistance. “What’s that?”

Antonio’s grin faded and his eyes looked softer and almost glassy. “Just wait until I leave. I don’t want to lose you sooner than I have to.” A pain struck deep within the both of them. “I can’t force you to keep this up and I won’t put you through more pain than is necessary… but please, let’s not end this before it needs to end. I want to finish out my year with you. Just stay with me until… until…”

“…until the house is all mine again,” Lovino finished.

The teen nodded and they sat in silence for a few minutes before Lovino eventually nodded and agreed. He felt better doing it this way, with a sort of countdown and a plan. They would break up like Lovino wanted—which he doesn’t want at all but he knew was necessary. He had to let Antonio be free to live life without being chained down to him. And Antonio got what he wanted; a little extra time with the love of his life.

They dreaded the unknown summer day when they would be forced apart, but Antonio couldn’t bring himself to try to convince Lovino otherwise. Lovino knew what he wanted. Lovino was right.

They leaned back on the pillows behind them and Antonio kicked a few books away with his feet. Lovino’s head dipped through the soft masses and Antonio felt the cold spread to his cheek. They felt bittersweet and alone in each other’s presence.

* * *

Antonio chose not to tell his friends of the impending breakup, predicting Francis to be too supportive and Gilbert to be smug. He only informed Feliciano that he would have to drop out of Plan: Eternal Love. It was a weird name but Feliciano was a romantic and loved to see his friends happy. He couldn’t speak to the Italian for long before hanging up and talking a walk around the neighborhood so Lovino couldn’t see him break down.

The graduation was coming faster than the teen wanted. Francis and Gilbert had a habit of sending messages to remind each other of an event they were excited for and Antonio struggled to reply to the texts with a standard elated emoji. Before he was excited and couldn’t contain his excitement, but now it was like when his parents told him the day they planned to have their sick old dog put down when he was a kid. He loved spending time with the Labrador, but knowing the days were running out killed him.

* * *

Lovino felt like he was in a haze, like his first moments post-mortem. Life didn’t feel real anymore, not that he was alive at all. The warmth Antonio brought to him was chilling and the earthly feeling he had been bound to was fading away. It was the right thing to do, to let Antonio be free… it was just so fucking hard to accept.

Feliciano came by that Friday and spoke to Lovino gently, avoiding the topic of a certain Spaniard. Lovino was barely there and barely focused. He told the younger man to leave him be, but the Italian stayed instead. They sat together speaking of family, Lovino’s memories with Feliciano’s childhood stories. They comforted each other, not realizing how this choice was hurting the both of them. Lovino waited for the day he would be numb and emotionless again while Feliciano hoped for a reconciliation and a happy ending.

“Happy endings don’t happen,” Lovino would argue lifelessly. “You’re an orphan and I’m dead.”

“That doesn’t make this the end,” Feliciano countered. “Death doesn’t mean the end. Sometimes, Lovi, it’s the beginning.”

The ghost brushed off the Catholic ramblings and let himself mope more. The day went on and Feliciano left, hoping that he could catch Antonio at the upcoming graduation ceremony to convince him to stay.


	14. Coming Home

Classes had ended the Wednesday before graduation, which was planned for the following Saturday. Antonio felt sick when he checked social media only to be faced with hundreds of images of fellow graduates showing off their gowns or diplomas of those who graduated earlier that week from neighboring schools.

Lovino would sit with him on his bed and rub rolled-up socks against his back, the best he could do to simulate a hand being soothing. The haze never left Lovino’s sight since their conversation before and he struggled to stay awake when Antonio wasn’t around.

Henrique had finished finals weeks before but chose to stay with friends, claiming college hadn’t finished yet whenever questioned by his parents. He came home in time for the graduation and was noticeably nervous around the house, keeping mostly to his room and completely avoiding his brother.

Though Antonio tried to hide the situation, Francis and Gilbert were fully aware that he would be moving for a second time. They tried to console him and spend time with him only to be brushed away while Antonio insisted on spending all his remaining free time at the Gothic house. They knew he was clinging desperately to Lovino and time there but they couldn’t grasp why it meant so much to him. Lovino was a ghost and they all knew this would be a short fling… well, everyone but Antonio.

* * *

 **Franny** : Y _ou really shouldnt spend all your time at home_

 **Franny** : _we have grad parties to go to!_

 **Franny** : _women to meet!_

 **Sent** : not interested

 **Gil** : _Ur ghost wont know_

 **Franny** : _I mean for me_

 **Franny** : _Toni???_

 **Gil** : _It waz a joke toni_

* * *

“Toni, what the fuck?!” Lovino cried, shocked at the sudden random act of Antonio. The teen had just thrown his phone at the wall, chipping a piece of paint off and shattering the phone’s screen in one move. “I’ve never seen you freak out before!”

The Spaniard sat on the floor and put his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Lovi, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was muffled. “My friends are being bastards.”

“Nice to know I rubbed off on you,” Lovino sighed as he moved to hover next to Antonio on crossed legs. “Calm down. I know you’re stressed. The summer break will do good for you. Didn’t Gilbert offer you to road trip with him and Ludwig a few months ago?”

Antonio looked up weakly and nodded. “I don’t know if I’m in much of a traveling mood.”

“Go,” the Italian commanded. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

_I’ll regret it if you don’t. Please, just be happy._

They were almost out of time. It was Friday and Antonio was using every excuse he could to avoid his family. He faked being sick since Sunday, pretending only to get sick whenever the Carriedos wanted a family outing or a dinner to celebrate Antonio graduating or Henrique passing that year of college. When his father would become enraged and accuse him of lying, he would rush to the bathroom and gag himself as proof.

_“Lo siento, papa,” he would choke. “My stomach became upset suddenly.”_

The pale skin and smell of sick was always enough to convince them to leave it. The family dinners went on without him and he felt better to have a little extra alone time with Lovino. The ghost, however, hated to see Antonio waste family time (no matter how much he hated them for taking his boyfriend from him), or ever be sick.

The Tuesday before they demanded he go see the doctor, his mother taking him. After school he gagged himself and ran and forced himself to cough in hopes of it making him look bad to a professional. The doctor concluded it could be nerves getting to him or a bug. He never took the prescribed medicine but hid it in case his parents checked it.

Currently his mother was having his robes dry-cleaned to make him presentable for the big day and for the family pictures he would be forced to take. He hoped maybe the cleaners would lose his robes and he could just skip out on the ceremony. He wished he could just stay home with Lovino for one more night.

The flat hat was on the dresser next to a silver and blue cord, one he had earned for his outstanding academics in the Spanish language classes he took for his entire high school career.

He thought of how tragic it would be to be found with the cord around his neck. The thoughts were fleeting and he never acted on them, knowing it was just an overreaction to the soon-to-be breakup and move. He knew he didn’t want that, to just die and be gone forever… but he wanted Lovino. He wanted Lovino more than he’d ever wanted anybody he’s dated.

 _It’s a phase, it’s hormones, I’m enthusiastic_ , he told himself. He knew he was a teenager and he made more of everything than it was but he couldn’t stop the thoughts and feelings and the dread that made him sick without the need of abusing his gag reflex.

* * *

Feliciano waited patiently by the front door. Antonio hadn’t responded to his text or calls and he was growing worried. He knew his young friend would have to move away soon and he only had one last definite day to be with Lovino and he wanted to be sure he could visit as well. Antonio would be busy on Saturday and if he could nudge him in the right direction early then he would.

He knocked on the door again. If Antonio wouldn’t answer then Lovino would. To his surprise, neither of them came. Instead he was faced with taller man who looked to be close to his age. He looked similar to Antonio but with longer hair and a university T-shirt covering his obviously well-defined chest.

“Who are you?” Henrique asked.

“Who… are _you_?” Feliciano replied, unable to think of a smooth retort like he did with the ladies at his college.

The taller man raised an eyebrow. “I’m Henrique. I live here.”

“Oh!” the Italian gasped. “Oh, uh, sorry! _Scusa_! I’m Feli and I, I…” _Don’t tell him you know Toni, don’t get Toni in trouble! Think of something quick!_ “…I’m Feli!”

“You already said that.”

“Sorry,” he panicked. “But I… I, uh… I just wanted to know if my family left anything here.”

“What?” Henrique eyed him with more confusion than suspicion. He waited and eventually invited the weird man in, assuming it was the returning heat making him act frenzied.

They went to the kitchen where he was offered water, which he drank to stall for time. “Sorry,” Feliciano repeated. He finally thought of a realistic excuse. “My brother used to live here a while ago and my nonno forgot a few family heirlooms here when he was cleaning it. I was hoping the new family hadn’t thrown anything away yet.”

Henrique watched him. “Whatever. I think Toni has a box of someone’s shit in his room.”

“Toni?” Feliciano questioned, hoping he sounded confused.

“Sorry, my little brother. He left a little while ago to take pictures with family… He’s kind of nuts and thinks there’s a ghost here.”

“My brother did die here,” Feliciano replied flatly. “Don’t disrespect the dead or the dead will disrespect _you_.” The Italian stared through the tanner man and silently allowed himself up the stairs that killed his brother. Henrique stayed at the table, chilled by the sudden change in mood.

He knew there was a ghost. As much as he tried to deny it, he knew Antonio was right. He saw the ghost in mirrors and he witnessed the ghost move things. He even heard him talk one night after he returned home from college. There was another voice coming from Antonio’s room past midnight, when everyone else would be asleep, and it was distinct. Deep, rough at times, and a thick accent.

He did research. He knew the man who died there was an immigrant and he saw the one photograph the internet had of him with his obituary—it looked close to the man in the mirror… and near exact to the man he just met. He had no doubt in his mind this Feliciano was telling the truth, but he wanted so badly not to believe his house was haunted… or that he was allowing his little brother to be removed from what seemed to be his best friend for no reason.

Antonio was definitely suffering and under stress. Before he left he very obviously broke his phone, which explained the loud bang earlier and why the teen mumbled not to call him. Seeing Antonio so distraught was more unsettling than the ghost haunting the place.

* * *

“Lovi?” Feliciano called into the seemingly-empty bedroom. “It’s Feli.”

There was a slight chill and Lovino appeared on the bed, posed to be sitting if he had any mass to him. He was pure white, foggy like warm breath in the winter. He would fade then return a brighter color. It was like the throbbing of a headache, the pattern of color slow and consistent. He looked at his brother but said nothing.

“You look tired,” Feliciano commented. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched his brother fade and reappear. His natural instinct was to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder (hovering it in his brother’s case), but he was too afraid any movement would make him disappear like clearing away smoke.

Lovino seemed to be nodding out. “Sorry,” he whispered. “It’s… been different lately… Antonio has to go soon…” he faded again. Then, as soon as he came back into view, he admitted, “I don’t want him to leave.” His voice was strained and he almost choked on his words. “I want him to be with me.”

Feliciano sniffled and leaned closer to his brother. “It’s okay, big brother. It’s okay. I was planning on talking to Toni again and work something out. You two deserve to be happy!”

There was a pause. “I am happy. I… I’m happy I’m still here. And Toni came to me.”

“Then why are you so… sad?” Feliciano cringed at himself, now understanding why he failed his public speaking class in college. He had no tact.

“Because I l-love him,” Lovino’s voice faded. “And I know this is killing him.”

The selfless response made Feliciano feel a fraction better. “You’re sweet, fratello. Toni will be fine, okay? His parents can’t force him to do anything. If they move, he can still come back. I can still come back. You don’t have to worry about him or anything. You’re not alone anymore and you never will be again!” Feliciano felt better about his pep-talk. He had a knack for complimenting people, though he wasn’t sure if this helped or not since Lovino continued to fade in and out.

Lovino smiled gently at his brother. “I think… I’m most happy that he found you.”

“Me, too,” the younger man whispered. “I’m so glad to have finally met you.”

The air was thin and Lovino yawned. “I’m tired, Feli,” he admitted. “I want to be awake.”

For the next twenty minutes Feliciano would talk and tell stories and dig out the photo albums. He pointed to different pictures, asking about his parents and family and who the boy with long hair was. Lovino smiled and told him everything he could remember.

“That’s Toris. He was my best friend.”

“Who’s this?”

“That’s you, you idiot. You were so small.”

“Mom would have been proud of you,” Feliciano had said. “You were a good older brother.”

“She would have been proud of you, too,” Lovino assured. “Mom and dad would have been so proud of you, Feli. I know they would have loved to see you grow up.”

Lovino yawned again and he lazily looked around the room, taking in the scenery as his eyes became heavier and warmer. The last thing he felt was the sun shining on him and the last thing he heard was a hushed _“I love you.”_


	15. If I Died

Antonio came home to a house he didn’t know. Henrique told him of the visitor and he went straight to his room to spend his last moments with Lovino. The only problem was Lovino never came when he called. There were no chills or cold spots, no foggy mirrors or moved objects. There was nothing.

Panic overtook him and he rushed around the room, then the halls, then the bathroom. He went through the entire house, desperately seeking out icy air or a reflection somewhere. His chants of “Lovino!” grew rushed and high-pitched. Henrique sat outside on the porch, feeling an odd guilt stabbing away at his stomach. The sound of his brother crying inside and alone was enough to make him take a walk around the block and wonder if this was his fault.

Feliciano had called the house later that day, finally able to get through to Antonio. Feliciano hadn’t known if Lovino would come back but he did know he felt alone and his veins were filled with the poison of dread. Antonio choked when they came to the conclusion…  
Lovino was gone.

From what he was told, Lovino was happy in his last moments. He felt at peace. He was done on earth and it was time to go home.

* * *

Francis and Gilbert rushed to the Carriedo house when they got the news of the passing. Gilbert threatened to beat his brother for not telling him immediately that Feliciano had a message for them, though Ludwig had no way of knowing that a ghost ‘passing’ was a bad thing.

Henrique lied to his parents about why Antonio was crying hysterically in his room. It was loud and ugly and heard throughout the second floor. When Francis and Gilbert had arrived they were forced into a minute of awkward small talk and nodding along to Mrs. Carriedo going on how heart-broken her baby was… Henrique having lied and said Antonio just broke up with some girl from school.

“It’s okay,” Francis repeated for the thousandth time. “It’s okay,” he patted his suffering friend’s back. Antonio continued to sob and accepted the tissues Gilbert passed to him.  
“H-he’s g-g—” he hiccupped. “—gone!”

The previous rage he felt toward his friends was gone, covered instead by the heavy weight of absence. The person he got to know and love was gone and he felt so much—stupid for thinking this could work, angry for letting his parents turn his last moments stressful, depressed for losing him. Most of all he felt alone. Painfully, obviously alone.

Gilbert held his tongue, knowing that flaunting how right he was wouldn’t help anyone. They had no idea how to treat this—do they act like it’s a normal breakup? A death? No one ever tells you how to console your best friend after his ghost passes on.

While Francis continued to mother his mourning friend, Gilbert noticed the smashed phone in the corner of the room. Antonio’s head was on Francis’s shoulder, some blonde hair dancing over his curls as he heaved and sobbed. The albino took his chance and grabbed the phone, unnoticed by either friend. The screen was shattered with loose pieces of glass held together under the plastic protective screen. The screen still worked despite the damage and Gilbert’s eyes widened when he saw the background image: Antonio smiling alone, an awkward blank space next to him.

He quickly thumbed through the pictures and saw plenty of blank images. There were selfies of Antonio alone and photographs of the wall or bed. He stopped and checked his own phone, scrolling until he found the pictures from the night they made the Ouija board. Lovino no longer appeared. He was gone in the photographs as much as he was gone from the world.

Francis gave him a warning look and he put the broken phone back before pocketing his own. He quietly announced he would go get some water for them before he left the room. Outside he exhaled and ran his hand through his hair, wondering how the hell they were supposed to get Antonio through graduation without having a breakdown. Their excitement and plans from before seemed to rub salt in the new wound. It was one thing to want Antonio to move on to a living boyfriend, it was another thing to get over a ghost.

* * *

While he was never very religious growing up, Feliciano felt a comfort when he entered the Catholic Church in town. This was the church his parents, he was told, had their service in when they passed. It was the same church his grandfather was remembered in years before. He had no family in the country and no money to visit distant relatives in Rome. The church was where he went for holidays when things became too lonely.

Now he was back praying for his brother, begging God to send a sign of some sort that Lovino was okay and in Heaven. He needed to know Lovino was with his parents and happy. His faith had been reinforced since he reunited with his brother that winter and it was almost harder now. He never thought he’d have to mourn for the same death twice.

The loss was back and the pain lingered.

He knelt in a pew, ignoring the other scattered people or the random homeless men in need of shelter. “ _Nonno,_ ” he whispered. “ _Please find Lovi. Keep him safe. I know he’ll really miss Toni and me, but look out for him. I don’t know if he made it to you or mom and dad yet… I don’t really know how dying works. But find him, nonno. Let him know we’re not mad and we understand. I love you, nonno_.”

* * *

Mrs. Carriedo allowed Francis and Gilbert to stay the night, fighting Mr. Carriedo for the first time. She knew her son was hurting over this mystery girl and she was done with her husband being so unnecessarily harsh on her children.

She offered Antonio anything he wanted for dinner, but he refused. His friends promised to make sure he ate something. She offered to pay for him to go out and see a movie or mess around with his friends but he said he was too tired to leave.

It was difficult to get Antonio to do much more than sit around. After he had cried for a few hours he became quiet. He shut off his emotions and sat in his bed while his friends tried to cheer him up. Antonio knew this would happen one day, he wanted it to happen—for Lovino to finally pass on and no longer be tied to the house. He just didn’t know how badly it would hurt… he felt ripped off not to get any warning he would be seeing him for the last time that day.

He barely slept that night, only passing out when the previous crying had worn him out. The house was too still, too silent. There were no odd creaks or moans, no books falling off the dresser or the chair in the corner scratching the floor. The doors didn’t stick, the windows didn’t open, the mirror didn’t reflect anything more than the bedroom.

The warmth of his friends on either side of him in bed was suffocating. He felt overheated and unable to move. It made him irritated between the mood swings of numb and ache. Blonde hair tickled his nose and define muscles nudged him further into the mess of hair. The affection he used to feel for intimacy was gone. Everything was gone.

_Lovino was gone._

* * *

The next morning he awoke to a stiff neck and an empty room. His friends were there, sure, but it was empty. It was warmer than before and stuffy. He never noticed the breeze that had always accompanied Lovino until then. His phone rang but he ignored it, deciding nothing was important anymore. Nothing would matter for a long time.

The only thing that got him to leave his room was Gilbert’s promise of scoring some beer and pot for them to get fucked up on that night after graduation, and maybe they would go to a party and get laid. There was an edgy side to Antonio that only emerged when he was hurt, the pain running deep past the nerve. He wanted to numb the pain of loss but feel the joy of life.

The thought of getting black-out drunk eased Antonio’s misery for a few more hours. His family took him and his friends out for a celebratory lunch since graduation didn’t start until seven o’clock. Antonio was off, inattentive to the joyous attempts at conversation. He struggled to fake smiles for the pictures his mom insisted on taking and his brother continued to avoid him, now with eyes that seemed to confess an unknown crime. He struggled to eat but forced himself to have something; the crying made his eyes burn and his head hurt. The headache persisted through the lunch and he gave up to the disappointment of his friends.

They tried to act normal and like nothing had happened but Antonio’s mood hung heavy like a storm cloud ready to burst. The car ride back to the house was like thunder in the distance and the stops at his friends’ houses for their gowns was lightning in the sky.

Back at the house they were together again, in the guest room (Francis had insisted they avoid the bedroom for obvious, hysterical reasons). The boys helped each other knot their ties and made sure their dress shirts didn’t show too obviously under their gowns. Antonio was silent but tried to think of how proud Lovino would have been and how that transparent face of his would have tinted pink at the sight of him.

_“Wow, looks like they give diplomas to anyone these days.”_

A small smile crept on his tired face. Lovino would have teased them so much. He would have been so charmingly mean. Francis saw the slight change in mood and smiled tenderly, grabbing Antonio’s cord from the bed and placing it over his shoulders.

“You look good,” he said simply. “Graduation suits you.”

They sat together for a while, recalling all the nonsense they saw in school. Gilbert began to gossip more about Elizabeth and how the sweaters weren’t fooling anyone about Gil Junior. He talked and talked, not allowing Antonio any time to let his thoughts wander. Francis played with his hair in an attempt to smooth it down despite knowing their caps would muss it up again. Gilbert put his own cap on, confused where the tassel was to hang.

“Is it on right?” He asked, flicking the strings around. “Oh shit, is it on the gay side?”

“ _Gay side?_ ” Francis remarked. “It’s a hat! There is no gay side, only pre- and post-grad sides!”

They continued to argue over nothing and Antonio watched them. Lovino used to get so flustered when they ‘fought.’ He was so cute… Antonio sent a silent prayer thanking God for allowing him to spend as much time as he could with the man.

* * *

The ibuprofen didn’t seem to ease the headache or general pain much, to Antonio’s dismay. The ride to the high school was cramped with too many people shoved into one car. Ludwig and Feliciano had agreed to meet them at the school and attend the ceremony. The family and graduates pulled into the packed lot and parted ways, either to the gym to get seats or to the halls to line up for their big entrance.

Gilbert and Francis patted Antonio’s shoulder before they broke off from him to line up with the other students with last names starting in B. Antonio waved to them and found the C students. He noticed Alfred talking to Elizabeth a ways off, looking worried and motioning to her stomach. The gown did a much better job at hiding her belly, though it still stuck out on the thin girl.

_“We’re due in a week,”_ the blonde hissed, worry filling him. Elizabeth just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, saying something too quiet to hear. She didn’t look nearly as nervous as her boyfriend.

Antonio smiled and wondered if they actually were going to let Gilbert name the baby, or if they were even keeping the kid. Did their parents know? Her parents had to but did Alfred tell his? Did they have a secret baby shower or did he never hear of one because they were planning on adoption? A new, innocent life was about to grace the planet and Antonio felt his headache dull for a moment.

Their principal came by the group, calling for everyone to line up and fast. Lines were made and in the distance they heard _Pomp and Circumstance_ echoing from the gym. Antonio prepared his brave face and felt a breeze as he marched forward, convinced it was his Lovino by his side.

They entered the large gym, transformed now into a huge arena of chairs and teachers in their own gowns. The Spanish teen nervously tugged at his sleeve and distracted himself with how much he thought the teachers looked like they were ready for a Renaissance festival.

“TONI!” he heard. He craned his neck, wincing slightly, and found the overly-happy Feliciano waving his arms next to an embarrassed Ludwig. A few rows behind them were his family, Henrique was trying his best to put his guilt aside to cheer on his brother. Antonio kept marching and he heard the same Italian accent screaming for Gilbert and Francis.

They looked so alike. Lovino wasn’t completely gone… his brother was still here. He wasn’t…

“Welcome, soon-to-be graduates of Lincoln High!” Their vice principal boomed from the makeshift stage in front of the rows of students. Antonio cringed again and covered his ears. He regretted not hunting down his heavy-duty pain medicine from when he had his wisdom teeth removed a few years prior.

The teachers and office workers went on to give their own speeches or talk about how much they loved ‘The Class of Twenty-Fifteen’ one at a time. Antonio felt himself nod off, kept awake by the shooting pain in his eye. Graduations were always boring but no one else was falling asleep! Lovino would have laughed so much at him that he was falling asleep at his own graduation.

_“Antonio? Well, he’s an idiot…”_

The teen opened his eyes and looked around the gym, only spotting classmates and parents. Did people in mourning usually hallucinate about their lost loved one’s voice? This wasn’t a memory.

_“…but he’s my idiot.”_

Antonio smiled again and shook himself awake as he heard names being called. Soon came Gilbert, who made a ridiculous face at the photographer as he shook the principal’s hand and took his diploma. Later came Francis, looking suave as ever. He knew it was his row’s turn to stand and line up at the stage next, but there was an overwhelming tiredness coming to him. In the corner of his eye he saw Feliciano but could swear it was Lovino standing there, waiting.

The students in his row began to stand up and shuffle out. The sleepiness was heavy and his eyes no longer listened to him, closing themselves instead. A warmness flowed from his chest and head. He smiled as he fell asleep to a chill encompassing his body.

_“He really is my idiot.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I WANT TO GET OFF MR. BONES' WILD RIDE!


	16. We'd Be Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Antonio is never coming home, never coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're the type to quit the final chapter of a story in rage, just keep reading. Trust me. I'm a doctor.

“Toni, get up,” the next student in line whispered, hoping no one would notice the hold-up. The teen remained seated, eyes closed, a smile on his face. People stopped, turning to look, confused by the halt. The student grew annoyed and shoved the teen’s shoulder, trying to wake him.

Instead, Antonio’s head lulled to the side and blood leaked from his nose.

The students went into panic mode and the crowd watching went from confused to frenzied. The principal left the stage, ready to kick Antonio from graduation. As he came closer he saw the blood now staining the teen’s clothing and he rushed over, pulling a phone from his pocket.

They couldn’t wake Antonio. The ambulance arriving, however, did a fantastic job at waking the sleeping babies and grandparents waiting for the ceremony to be over.

* * *

The Carriedos kept to their word and moved away not long after the incident. They couldn’t sell the house, now marked as a house of death by the superstitious community. The untimely death of Lovino Vargas was remembered again, now followed by the tragic death of Antonio Carriedo. A death by falling and a death by a ruptured aneurysm.

Antonio’s death was unexpected. His family was torn, his mother deciding she had no reason to stay with Mr. Carriedo any longer, even blaming him for her baby’s passing. Henrique convinced his parents to let him handle the fine details of burial, which meant contacting the strange Italian man from before and doing what he knew was right.

It was the same Catholic Church that Lovino had his service in that Antonio was remembered in. Afterwards he was buried in the same cemetery in an open plot next to another young man who passed away and was forgotten.

The funeral went by without a hitch, though most of the high school showed up and made it a crowded affair. Every other person wanted to go up to the podium to talk about Antonio. It’s funny how as soon as you die you’re everyone’s best friend. The only problem was Antonio was everyone’s best friend. He was nice to anyone he could be, he did what he could because it was in his nature to be loving.

Henrique moderated who could talk. He only allowed a handful, sniffling at the speeches of Francis and Gilbert, who went up together. It only made sense for them to remember their lost friend side by side. The room of attendees were confused when they saw the thin, pale Italian walk past Henrique to give a few parting words.

“I’m Feli,” he told the room. “None of you probably know me, but I knew Toni. He was a close family friend. I’m no stranger to loss. My dad died before I was born, my mom died having me, and my brother died when I was little. Antonio was one of the sweetest guys I’ve met, and he gave me something I never would have had… a _family_. And I will never forget what he’s done for me. I know he’s in a better place, because when you think about it, anywhere with Antonio is automatically a better place. Now it has _him_. Toni had an angel looking out for him and now… now he’s an angel looking out for us. I think he’s going to do pretty good now that his spirit matches his personality.”

* * *

Feliciano was given the keys to the house after the funeral. He came by, seeing only leftover boxes that the Carriedos hadn’t moved out yet. He sighed to himself and climbed the stairs and stopped just outside the bedroom that haunted him. Mrs. Carriedo had already gone through, taking what she needed to remember her son, but allowed his friends to take anything left. Gilbert had taken the broken phone and the laptop, wanting to go through the memory to immortalize his friend. Francis had taken the bedspread and Antonio’s old journals and old clothes, ready to pack it away when he missed the scent of sweat, sugar, and grass.

Feliciano found the old photo albums, left finished by Antonio. He took all the remaining pieces of his brother and the man who made his brother so happy. He packed up the picture frames, the books, the shoe box full of leftover items Antonio didn’t know where to place. He packed the piece of cardboard with warning messages and the things he assumed his brother had broken. He carried the corner chair down to the front door and he found the homemade Ouija board in the guest room.

Once the car was packed up, he paused and took a final trip to the backyard where he swung on the lopsided swing for a few minutes. The sun beat down on his fair skin and he left the neighborhood with watery eyes.

He made his last stop of the day at the cemetery, carrying a grocery bag with him. He stopped at the two graves, one old and overgrown and one new with freshly packed dirt. From the bag he grabbed an old, ratty bunny doll and placed it on the old grave.

“Sorry,” he whispered to the new grave. “I hope you don’t mind sharing with fratello.”

* * *

_“He’s an idiot.”_

…

_“He’s my idiot.”_

* * *

The summer went on, hotter than anything Feliciano had ever experienced. He had an easier time with his brother’s passing than he did with Antonio’s. He did manage to keep in touch with the deceased’s friends, receiving texts every once in a while from Gilbert or Francis. He knew they saw him as a way to remember their friend, and they knew talking to Henrique would have only made him feel more raw and pained.

He almost cried when Gilbert told him that Elizabeth and Alfred had the baby, which he _did_ cash his favor in to name… Romano Fernandez. Romano Fernandez Jones. Ludwig had called him later that night to check up on him, admitting he drove Gilbert to the cemetery to look at their headstones and use their middle names.

The young parents agreed to the name for reasons they wouldn’t explain, but Francis had a feeling they felt they owed Antonio. He, and Lovino, did open their world to the supernatural.

Feliciano rolled over in his bed, trying to clear his head. On his nightstand was one of the awkward printed photos of Antonio and Lovino, now just Antonio holding his arm around no one. He closed his eyes, said a quick prayer that they find each other, and burrowed his head in his pillows. On the nightstand Antonio smiled from his picture, holding his blushing and pouting boyfriend.

* * *

There was something poking him and he didn’t like it. Antonio groaned and rolled over, grabbing for blanket and finding none. He hummed in confusion before opening his eyes.

“What?” he asked no one. He sat up, feeling refreshed, and examined his surroundings. He was in an open field of soft grass and sweet, colorful flowers scattered about. In the distance he could see some houses and, on the hills, a city. There were no cars or smoke, no air pollution or ugly construction sounds. It was like a painting and Antonio loved it… and was also _highly confused._

“Hey, jackass!” A voice behind him called. Antonio felt heat rush to his cheeks and he sprung up from his spot, turning on his heel. Behind him was Lovino, the person he had been dying to see for… an _entire_ day! A day doesn’t sound like much, but it was an eternity for someone who died twenty years before you were born.

“Wait, Lovi, what’s going on? Am I high?”

Lovino looked at him like he was an idiot (as usual), and laughed. “No, you stupid little fuck. Try to do some mental math.”

“Okay!”

“What was I when we met?”

“A ghost.”

“What am I now?”

“…Real?”

“Very good,” Lovino laughed. Antonio’s smile broadened at the sweetness he felt coming from Lovino for the first time. “Now, Toni, what were you when we met?”

“A soccer player!”

“No.”

“Seventeen?”

“No.”

“Drop-dead gorgeous?”

“I swear to god, Antonio!”

The Spaniard laughed and saw the amusement reflected on the Italian. “Alive.”

“And now?”

Antonio’s eyebrows furrowed together and he stared at the other man with the look of a lost puppy. Lovino was ready to burst out in laughter at the defiant lack of understanding. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“Aneurysm.”

Antonio frowned. “I was about to graduate! I— _oh god_ , I died in front of the _entire_ room?”

Lovino giggled darkly. “Such a fucked up prank, Toni. I knew I liked you for a reason.”

Antonio turned red and cried, “It wasn’t a prank! I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to—it was an accident!”

Across from him Lovino was laughing, bent over and holding his sides. “I’m fucking with you, Toni! It was just your time, so don’t feel bad about it.” He straightened up and gave

Antonio a compassionate look.

The two walked side by side, Antonio silently taking note of how short Lovino actually was. They stopped by a large tree, sitting beneath it. Antonio observed the beauty of his best friend, his love, and those magnetizing eyes that now looked more golden than the emerald he first met in the mirror.

“Is this like the tree in the Garden of Eden?” Antonio asked innocently.

“What? No. It’s just a fucking tree.”

They laughed and talked for hours. Lovino shared his secrets, explaining everything he learned when he finally passed. He spoke of his grandpa coming out to the field he woke in, telling him he missed him. He learned he was trapped in the house and Francis was right—he could only move around the direct area he had died in. He told Antonio how untimely deaths result in ghosts, bound to earth until they were done with the living. He then explained that Antonio wasn’t untimely, and he was always meant to die like this. Lovino didn’t meet his predetermined death like Antonio did.

“And this is the afterlife,” Lovino said, his voice lighter than when he was the grumpy poltergeist. “It’s… actually pretty nice here. Very relaxing. I don’t even swear as much.”

“Yes you do.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Antonio giggled and something mischievous struck his face. He turned to take in Lovino’s image, now a full person with depth and weight.

“What the fuck are you looking at?”

Antonio smiled and leaned in, brushing his nose with Lovino’s. The Italian understood instantly and moved in closer until they were touching. Lovino moved to wrap his arms around Antonio’s neck and Antonio placed his hands on his hips before gently kissing for the first time.

“Your lips are warm,” he breathed against Lovino’s cheek.

“Your hands are cold,” Lovino said back playfully.

They laid together in the shade, refusing to break contact. This felt like an amazing dream neither wanted to end. It was warm and sunny and bright. Lovino’s hair was soft against Antonio’s skin and Antonio was warm and electrifying against Lovino’s body.

“My nonno wants to meet you. And my parents. And Toris. Pretty much everyone’s been dying to meet the man they think made me happy. As if they know shit.”

“Lovi, that’s a little harsh,” Antonio teased. “And I’ll be more than happy to meet your family.”

Lovino hummed and nuzzled his head into Antonio’s shoulder. “It’ll be a while before Feli or your moron friends can come here.” Antonio nodded.

“So, what now?” Antonio asked, running his fingers through Lovino’s hair. “What do we do?”

With a smile and bright eyes, Lovino replied, “Everything.”


End file.
